


A Love For All Seasons

by Nomanono



Series: In Season [2]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Canon but with ABO, Friends to Lovers, Lovers to Friends, M/M, NaNoWriMo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-02
Updated: 2017-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-28 06:07:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 34
Words: 51,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12599952
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nomanono/pseuds/Nomanono
Summary: Victor Nikiforov, ladies and gentlemen. Chris’ best friend. His stunt cock. And, according to Victor's delusions of grandeur, the future husband of one very disinterested Yuuri Katsuki.Bad news for Chris, who may or may not have already "tapped that". Both thats, actually.





	1. Chris: Convenience and Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, this is a **NaNoWriMo** work. What does that mean!?
> 
> 1\. This is not going to be my best shit. NaNoWriMo is about speed, not quality. If you want good stuff to read, check out the other ABO fics in this series.
> 
> 2\. Frequent updates! And finished within the month!
> 
> 3\. Consistency is a wash! I'm kinda going into this blind, so~ we're all on this ride together ;) 
> 
> If you still wanna read after all those warnings, by golly, let's do it.

Chris grunted into the stiff hotel pillow as the cock slipped out of his ass. The soft thing dripped into his crack but the last thing he minded was the stickiness. He laid there, groaning his appreciation and gratitude. Sometimes after a good fuck the best thing was just lazing in the afterglow. It was only the threat of tackiness on his ass that finally made him get up.

The hotel room wasn’t anything special, but it had scent eaters on the nightstand to balance out the unexpected and overwhelming pheromones wafting off of Chris’ ass, and neck, and wrists. It wasn’t his ideal place for a tryst like this, but it would do.

“I needed that,” Chris said, tugging two of the anti-scent tissues and swiping up the mess between his legs. 

“I know the feeling.” 

Chris snorted. Something about sating those urges was primal in a way only ferals could appreciate. “It feels best after a win, right?”

“Well… I wouldn’t know.”

“Hey, you did better than me.”

“Still.”

Chris took a third tissue with him to the bathroom. He pressed out until the cum started to drool into the toilet bowl, and when he’d gotten the gloppiest of it out he wiped again. By the time he came back to the room, his partner was dressed, a stack of wadded tissues sitting on the bed. 

“I mean it, though,” Chris said, holding out his hand. “Thanks. I owe you one. If you ever spike or whatever…” He shrugged the rest of the sentence away. 

It wasn’t like he normally took new skaters to his bed. But he wasn’t scheduled to go into heat for another two weeks, and this off-cycle flare-up had caught him unawares - and partnerless - just in time for the GPF qualifier. He didn’t have enough warning to get a blocker. He hadn’t even _realized_ it until he caught the eyes of several scenting alphas roaming over him and realized the seat of his pants was damp. That he’d managed to find someone willing and able was a godsend.

“It’s no problem, really,” Yuuri Katsuki assured him, with the same shy blush he’d had when they started. “Really.”

— 

“You going to be okay?” Victor asked Chris a week and a half later. Different hotel room. Same starchy sheets and too-thick pillows. They shared Skate Canada this year. 

Chris always skated better when he was in a rink with Victor. 

“Yeah,” Chris said, tightening around Victor’s knot. “You still tracking my cycle?”

Victor gave him that cheesiest of smiles: “You smell like you’re seconds off. It’s killing me. I don’t need an app for that.”

“Ohhh, I forgot I shared you on mine,” Chris said. 

“Yeah. What was with that spike you had? Did you go to a parlor?” Victor asked. 

“Parlor? Victor, please.”

“I know, I know, you have alphas barking down your door at all hours,” Victor smirked. “None are prettier than I am, are they?” 

“Never,” Chris laughed. He settled down, pulling Victor with him to snuggle while they waited for his knot to recede. He pressed his face into Victor’s neck, breathed in the scent of the only alpha he ever wanted. He nuzzled and snuffed, wishing he could get high on the heady thickness of Victor’s pheromones. “And their knots are smaller, too.” 

“I should hope,” Victor snorted. “I feel bad, you know.”

“Yeah I’m sure you really suffer.”

Victor swatted his side, and Chris just groaned, flexing around Victor’s knot again, feeling another flush of heat in his bowels where Victor was filling him with sterile seed. And even if it hadn’t been sterile, Chris’ implant took care of any eggs that might be floating around inside him. 

“For you, mon ami, I would,” Victor purred, nipping at Chris’ neck in return. “Tell me he was small and unsatisfying?” 

“He was smaller than you,” Chris reassured Victor. “But I didn’t need much. It was just a little flare up. One of the other skaters —“ 

“Not Leroy!” Victor gasped. 

“That beta? No,” Chris snorted. “Oh —!” He gasped as he felt Victor’s knot tug on his hole, threatening to pop out. “Victor, what are you —?”

“I’m bored,” Victor whined, giving another tug. 

“This is why I only sleep with you when you’re rutting, or I’m in heat,” Chris grimaced. “Weren’t you just talking about how I smell?”

“Well,” Victor said. “…. Now you smell like me.” 

“Oh, god, Victor, did you mark me?!” Chris cursed, grabbing the pillow and throwing it at the silver-haired skater.

“JUST A LITTLE,” Victor leapt to the defense. 

Chris groaned. “Dammit, Victor, you’re supposed to _tell me_ before you do that.”

“I’m sorry!” Victor whined. “You just feel so _good_.”

Chris sighed. It was a losing battle with Victor. Plus, he was looking at Chris through his bangs, beautiful blue eyes and thick batting lashes. Chris pressed his lips together, steeling himself against Nikiforov’s wiles. 

“I’ll stay here for your heat,” Victor cooed his apology, his promise. “Fill you up? Knot you every hour? Mark your whole room? You like smelling me, don’t you, when you’re cycling?” 

Did he ever. But Chris was still trying to be upset with him. He looked away, crossing his arms over his naked chest. It was remarkable, how difficult it was to stay mad at someone when the inflatable bulb of their dick was locked inside your colon.

“Just because I like smelling you when I’m in heat doesn’t mean I want you to _piss in my ass_ when we’re casually fucking,” Chris glared.

“Sorry,” Victor frowned, and Chris sighed, because now Victor looked legitimately hurt and apologetic. 

“It’s fine,” Chris said. He opened up his arms and Victor swam into them - or as much as he could, given his still-lodged cock. “Just tell me next time, OK?” 

“OK,” Victor said. “…I’ll stay here for your heat?” 

“Yeah,” Chris said, fingers washing through Victor’s hair. “You ready for it?” 

Victor snorted. “I’m your stunt-cock. Your on-call Alpha. Your unofficial fuck boi —“ 

“That’s not what that means,” Chris groaned, dragging a hand down his face. 

“ _What it means_ ,” Victor corrected him, “is that I’ve got your back. Or your ass. You know. I’m there for you.”

They’d been doing this for years now, and it was true. 

“Yeah,” Chris smiled at last, squeezing Victor to his chest. “Yeah I know.” 

— 

The Grand Prix Final was exactly as Chris expected. Victor on the top of the podium, Chris on his right, just beneath him. _Just like in bed_ Victor always used to wink, until Chris said it didn’t sit well with him. Not that he’d want to be beneath anyone else, but for once in all his years he wanted to best Victor Nikiforov - Victor Nikiforov who was still at the top of his game despite being one of the eldest skaters on the roster. Even Chris was starting to feel old, running out of years he could use to get his gold. 

Yuuri Katsuki, the man who’d offered to help, had made it to the GPF too, only to tank - and brutally. Chris didn’t even get a chance to talk to him; he bolted before the sweat of his costume was even dry. 

No one saw him again until the banquet. Chris and Victor were on the edge of the dance floor when Katsuki sauntered, ever so intoxicated, to the middle. Katsuki smelled like raw omega ass, powerful enough that the few people in the room with noses for pheromones were bug-eyed as he paraded himself. Chris thought it was rude, not to wipe up your scents when you were done - especially if Yuuri had been with someone in heat. But Victor? 

Well, Victor could hardly resist Chris normally. And with that scent in the air? They all got pulled into the wonderful drunken madness of it. Yuri Plisetsky suddenly battled against Katsuki, paso doble and tango and bolero, fighting for a chance to win Victor’s tutelage. Victor ate it up, happily fell into follow position, hung on every lop-sided smile Katsuki threw his way. 

Not that Chris was going to miss an opportunity to show off, too. 

They wound up almost naked, dancing from the poles near the front of the dance floor to Victor’s brilliant smile and heartfelt applause. 

They danced, and they danced, and Chris couldn’t remember how it ended, only that he woke up the next day head pounding, with seventeen new texts from Victor Nikiforov. 

— 

Chris blinked through his messages from Victor

_He’s perfect._  
_I’m going to marry him._  
_How does Yuuri Nikiforov sound?_

_what are you TALKING about_ , Chris texted back. 

Victor sent three blocks of emojis: smilies and hearts and rainbows and Chris just shook his head. 

_I’m going to marry him,_ Victor said. 

_you slept with him didn’t you_

_He wasn’t in my bed when I woke up_  
_…but I wouldn’t put it past me_

“Neither would I,” Chris shook his head - bad mistake - and put his phone down. He had a plane to catch. 

_Fuck_ , he had a plane to catch! 

By the time he checked his phone again, sometime in the taxi on the way to the Sochi Airport, Victor’s tune had completely changed. 

_My life is over_

_OK wait,_ Chris texted, because it wasn’t like Victor had a flare for the dramatic or anything. _What?_

_He rejected me_

_Katsuki?_

_MY FUTURE HUSBAND TO BE YES_

_well did you fucking propose to him_  
_i would have turned you down too_

_I ASKED HIM FOR A PHOTO_

_like a dick pic?_

_A COMMEMORATIVE PHOTO CHRIS_

_????_

_He just looked at me like I was speaking Russian_  
_I said it again in English just to make sure I hadn’t said it in Russian_  
_AND HE JUST WALKED AWAY_

_ouch_

_HOLD ME_

_seriously?_

_Facetime?_

_going through security_

The next messages were just an endless stream of crying faces. Chris blinked slow and shook his head. Victor Nikiforov, ladies and gentlemen. Chris’ best friend. His stunt cock. And now apparently the future husband of one very disinterested Yuuri Katsuki. 

Chris blanched. 

Fuck. 

He’d accidentally already fucked Victor’s future husband. 

Chris visibly winced. 

Maybe it was for the best things hadn’t worked out.

— 

Victor was insufferable all through Nationals and into the Four Continents. Whining, fretting, texting at all hours of the night. 

“Go to a parlor,” Chris said in the lockers. “You need something new for your nose.”

“I’ve tried,” Victor said. The drama was leaking out of him, and the hollowness it left behind was even worse. Chris frowned. He’d never seen Victor look so … old. Tired. Even as he’d aged, Victor had kept a sense of timelessness about him. He was unstoppable. Tireless. Vigorous. Now his eyes were flecked with distance, his body here but his heart somewhere else. “It’s nothing like him.”

“You don’t even know what he’ll smell like when he’s not… _like that_ ,” Chris said. 

“I don’t need to know,” Victor said. 

“You need to get over him,” Chris said. “He said no.”

“He said _nothing_ ,” Victor corrected, but instead of his prior, obnoxious optimism now he simply seemed resigned. 

“Come on,” Chris zipped up his jacket. “Stop that. It’s over. You’ve got a gold medal to win.” 

Victor grimaced like he didn’t care, but he wound up winning gold anyway. 

— 

Chris didn’t get many texts about Victor’s Future Husband (tm) after that. He told himself it was because Victor was prepping for Worlds, he’d finally seen the light and gotten over it, but in reality it was because Chris didn’t get many texts from Victor at all after that. No one did, apparently. 

_rut’s coming up_ Chris finally broke the silence. 

_Yeah_

_so?_

_I’ll parlor_

_i’ll come to you_ , Chris texted. _you know that right?_

_Now who’s the fuck boi?_

_…. that really doesn’t mean what you think it means_

_It’s okay_  
_Worlds you know_  
_I’ll just parlor_

_you sure?_

_Yeah. Thanks tho <3_

_np_ and Chris clicked off his phone. 

— 

At Worlds, Victor Nikiforov was everything he had always been: perfect. A smile could draw cheers, a wink could send blood gushing. He was still coming down from his rut, still filled with that peak confidence and flawless roaming appeal. When he skated, he was still peerless, no matter how hard Chris tried to overtake him. When he skated, his blades never even touched the surface. It was only the carved ice in his wake that proved he was human and some not figure skating deity.

But where normally Victor Nikiforov acted like a god, at the end of his free skate he just looked… empty.

During the interviews Chris tipped his head at Victor, trying to grab his attention. Victor had been flighty, looking around the rink and over his shoulder like something was missing and disappearing as soon as Yakov had finished yelling at him. 

“What’s next?” one of the reporters asked. 

Chris wasn’t used to Victor Nikiforov looking lost.

— 

“Are you retiring?” Chris caught Victor’s wrist at the airport. 

“You know I’d tell you first,” Victor said. “After Yakov, maybe.”

“You better tell me first,” Yakov grumbled from his spread-legged, cross-armed sit near the gate. 

Victor glanced over his shoulder at Yakov, then back to Chris. 

“I don’t know right now,” Victor admitted. “I’m going to go home and take a rest.”

“You need it,” Chris agreed. “Just…. Let me know, okay? If you need something?” 

Even Victor’s attempt at a seductive smile felt paper-thin.

“Not just that,” Chris said. “I’m still your friend, too, right?”

“Yeah,” Victor finally agreed. 

“Vitya! We’re boarding!”

“I have to,” Victor shrugged towards his coach. 

“Yeah. I’ll see you soon, alright?” Chris said. He clasped Victor’s shoulders. “Get some rest.”

Victor’s smile was so half-hearted Chris felt his stomach drop, but he watched until Victor was gone.

He’d just sat down at his gate when a new video notification appeared:

_Yuuri Katsuki tried to skate Victor Nikiforov’s FS Program Stammi Vicino_


	2. Victor: Meeting the Minx

Victor Nikiforov walked into his apartment, greeted by the bouncing, enthusiastic mop of his dog. Makkachin all but tackled him, and Victor wound up crouched just inside the doorway, hugging Makkachin to his chest and trying not to cry.

“Hey Makka, I missed you, too,” Victor said. Makkachin didn’t care that his voice cracked. If anything, it only made the licks across his face more enthusiastic. 

He fell back onto his butt and wound up sitting there, loving on Makkachin, until the occasional vibration in his pocket became near-constant. What could be so important? Even if it wasn’t off-season, Yakov never had that much to yell about. And who else would…? 

Chris?

_WHAT?!_

— 

Victor dropped onto his couch, Makkachin joining him, and narrowed his eyes at the video’s freeze frame. Even just the name Yuuri Katsuki made his ribs crunch around his heart. 

He pressed play, listening to the familiar if tinny melody. He’d never felt _this_ before when the song came on. Yuuri looked like beautiful hell, like he’d been off-season for months but his form and his musicality — 

Victor’s brow furrowed.

He worried, briefly, that he was having a heart attack, but this was breaking through his numbness, not causing it, right? Victor swallowed a knot of - what? What was so raw and tight inside of him? He was old and he was tired and he’d won gold more times than anyone ever should. He was listless and he was aimless and what do you shoot for when you’ve already got the moon?

He hadn’t felt like this since…. 

No. That was the point. Victor _hadn’t_ felt like this. 

— 

“It was a cry for help,” Victor said, pacing in front of his gate. He’d been at his home for less than 48 hours, but at least this time Makkachin was coming with him. 

“So you’re, what, going to fly to Japan, get down on one knee, propose to him and fly him back?” 

“No. He’s too subtle for that,” Victor said. “My little minx turned me down only to drop this immediately after Worlds? He’s clearly far more advanced in his seduction than we ever imagined.”

Chris tried to match those words to the shy boy who’d bedded him. “We’re talking about Yuuri Katsuki, right?” 

“Soon to be Nikiforov!” 

“Victor,” Chris sighed. 

“What?” 

“You’re going to terrify him,” Chris said. “You can’t just… alpha your way in there and pretend everything’s going to go your way.” Which he knew was exactly Victor’s plan, because for most of his life that was exactly how life had worked for Victor Nikiforov. 

“He wants me, Chris. He _summoned_ me,” Victor said. “I knew he couldn’t just ignore that night. Maybe he’s in heat again! The last time was the GPF, how many months has it —?”

“Victor, what are you _talking_ about?” Chris groaned.

“He’s going into heat,” Victor decided for himself. “He wants me. He —“ 

“ _Victor_ ,” Chris stopped him. He couldn’t keep letting Victor live this lie. “Yuuri Katsuki _is an alpha_.”

— 

Victor sat on the plan to Japan wondering if Chris was crazy. Granted, they’d announced first class boarding at roughly the same time Chris was speaking, so Victor probably misheard, but he could have _sworn_ Chris said Yuuri Katsuki was an alpha. 

Clearly Chris did not understand how close Victor and Yuuri got that night. Victor’s hand had been on the back of Yuuri’s _neck_. Victor knew the scent of an omechko, and Yuuri was _definitely_ omechko. He’d drenched Yuuri in his scent, and vise versa. He’d woken up with a knot the size of a _grapefruit_ , for fuck’s sake. 

How in the world could Chris possibly think that Yuuri Katsuki - soon to be Yuuri Nikiforov - was an alpha?

— 

Japan was amazing. 

Japan was everything from the movies and more. Japan was curling roofs and neon kanji and thick red-orange posts and plushy poop emojis. 

And there, plastered where everyone would see it when they arrived, was Yuuri Katsuki. 

Victor stopped and stared, brushing back his silver hair to laugh because his only other options were screaming or peeing or some embarrassing combination of both. He took a selfie of himself with the poster and sent it to Chris.

A Russian accent on top of his English made communication and transportation a unique challenge, but Victor wound up standing in front of an onsen - it just looked like a nice bed and breakfast - without too much wear and tear. A woman with Yuuri Katsuki’s smile greeted him, showed him to a room and told him where the hot springs were. Makkachin bounced around his new home while Victor simply sat on the low mattress and gazed around. 

This was where Yuuri Katsuki grew up. 

He brushed his fingertips over the tatami mat floors, feeling the strange mix of softness and bristles. Out the window it was unseasonably cold, ice-covered cherry blossoms swaying. The accommodations for non-betas were subtle: scent-holders in the corners disguised as small vases bearing single stems, and a second set of thicker tissues alongside the normal, delicate sort.

Victor got up and went to the scent holders, unzipping and leaving a drip on each cotton cylinder. He knew a few alphas who would drench them, but then, he knew a few men who soaked themselves in cologne, too. Too much could overwhelm a poor omechko - it could even affect beta noses eventually. Victor wanted to overwhelm Yuuri Katsuki, but not immediately. This was a slow game. 

Yuuri Katsuki. 

Yuuri Nikiforov.

Victor found himself blushing, blushing and hard and tight-chested and when Makkachin came to check on him he had to laugh again. 

“Okay, Makkachin,” Victor said. “Go find Yuuri.” Makkachin had no idea what this command meant, but stared very seriously and earnestly at his owner and went darting off when the door opened. Victor stripped down to nothing but his robe, then walked towards the hot springs to make his grand debut. 

— 

The water calmed Victor’s racing heartbeat, weighed down the hair that stood on end with excitement. He let his lower lip hang open, breathing deep through his mouth to try and catch any stray scent of Yuuri in the air. He could smell a few other ferals: an off-cycle alpha woman, a whiff of an alpha man. The latter made his nose twitch.

No omechko. 

Yuuri must have to be mindful about his scent, in his family’s resort. 

Victor stared at the tanuki in front of him, the bulbous round balls like a chair for the raccoon-creature to sit on. Well. He was certainly on the men’s side, wasn’t he? He ignored it for the moment and focused on his plan. Yuuri had asked him, drunkenly, stumbling, to be his “coach”. Coy little minx. Victor knew exactly what Yuuri was asking, but two could play that game, couldn’t they? Victor would be Yuuri’s “coach” if that’s what Yuuri wanted to call it.

Victor perked up as he heard a crash inside the onsen, ears latching onto the sound of rapid running. What was going on? 

Fifteen seconds later the answer came careening around the corner, panting in disbelief. 

“Victor?!” Yuuri Katsuki gasped. “What are you doing here?!”

Victor beamed, just the way he’d planned, and stood from the water. He held out his hand. “Starting today, I’m your coach.” Victor’s smile broke out across his face. “I’ll make you win the Grand Prix Final.”

Yuuri’s wide-eyed stare looked a million miles away.

“Huh?” Yuuri blinked several times before letting out a disbelieving: “What?!”

— 

_so_ , Chris texted. _when’s the wedding_

Victor rested on his back, staring up at the ceiling, Makkachin a dusty mop beside him. 

This was _not_ how he expected to feel after volunteering to be Yuuri Katsuki’s coach. After Victor’s declaration he’d stepped naked up to Yuuri, his nose twitching as he caught that alpha scent again. 

Did Yuuri already have a partner? Was Victor too late? Or had Yuuri just come from a parlor perhaps and not wiped off very well? Victor got caught up with the scents and didn’t realize Yuuri was still staring at him.

“I’ll be staying here,” Victor chimed. “Why don’t you show me around?” 

They’d walked back through the spa and lockers, Victor barely remembering to grab a robe. Yuuri looked too terrified to do anything more than tremble and ask Victor if he was sure and how could this be and he was so sorry that video went viral. 

As if he hadn’t posted it just to get Victor’s attention. 

Victor offered Yuuri a wink: “I’m sure you tried your best to keep it under wraps.” 

“What?” 

But Victor was already walking off. 

They ate dinner - delicious, delicious dinner - and the next thing Victor remembered was drowsily stirring awake to find half of Yuuri’s family staring at him. 

_you had your dick out again didn’t you_

_Please. I can be subtle._

_and Georgi can have a healthy relationship_

_Ok, ow._   
_I discovered my new favorite food: Katsudon_

_is that what you’re calling his ass_

_CHRIS this is Serious_

_ok ok. so._

After katsudon, Victor’s boxes had arrived, and he’d gone with Yuuri back to his room. He’d kept his eyes on Yuuri’s face, but when Yuuri walked in there was no acknowledgment of Victor’s scent, no sniff or flare of his nostrils, no flush to his cheeks, no sympathetic rush of Yuuri’s own scent. 

Victor frowned internally, but kept his smile on his face.

“You look anxious,” he winked at his young trainee. “You can pay the coaching fee once you win.”

He thought that would reassure Yuuri, but Yuuri’s face kept its overwhelmed, moon-eyed stare. Victor wondered how best to sooth the little omechko. They were in his space now, his room. Didn’t Yuuri realize Victor would take care of him?

He hunkered down in front of Yuuri, where he was kneeling, and clasped his chin.

“Yuuri… tell me everything about you,” Victor said, fingertips brushing that soft place beneath Yuuri’s jaw, dangerously close to his sensitive neck. If he could just stroke Yuuri’s neck, just mix their scents… He kept asking little questions, bringing his other hand towards Yuuri’s wrist.

He almost didn’t hear the growl. 

“I’m so sorry!” Yuuri flushed, and with that he scampered from the room. 

_i mean you basically throated him and then immediately touched his wrist? i thought you said you could be subtle_

_He GROWLED at me_ , Victor sent, and followed it with a whole slew of crying emojis. 

_yeah well back off. did you give him space?_

Victor winced. He hadn’t given Yuuri space. In fact, he’d gone to his bedroom door (god, the smell - it took everything in Victor’s power not to just roll around outside it and then drench it in pee) and insisted they sleep together. … For _coaching_ purposes, obviously. 

_oh my god Victor_   
_seriously what is wrong with you_

More crying emojis. 

After being thoroughly told off, Victor had retreated back to his room. He’d dabbed his dick against the doorframe for good measure (he’d use a scent-eater on it before he left — no one else in Yuuri’s family was feral; they wouldn’t know), then flopped into bed with Makkachin. 

_Oh!_ Victor realized, as he was falling asleep. 

_hmm?_

_I figured out how to get more of his scent_

_without accosting him?_

_He got fat_ , Victor texted, unable to help the little smile at the thought of Yuuri’s wiggling, delightful stomach. _I’m going to make him sweat._ Sweat emoji sweat emoji. 

Chris sent back an eye roll. _sounds like you already have_


	3. Yuuri: Handling Victor

Yuuri had no idea what he had done in his life to deserve Victor Nikiforov - for better and for worse. 

On the one hand, Victor Nikiforov, living legend of figure skating, Yuuri’s idol going on 12 years, had traveled across the world to Yuuri’s nowhere town to be his private coach. It was unreal. It was perfect. It was the sort of good that gave Yuuri Katsuki heart palpitations. 

On the other hand, here was Victor Nikiforov, with his winks and his constant attention and his “Do you have a girlfriend?” “Do you have a _boyfriend_?” “Let’s talk about _my_ romantic history!” putting his hands on Yuuri’s wrist and trying to touch his throat and filling his room with just the right amount of scent to make Yuuri go into shock. 

He’d known, of course, that Victor was an alpha. Since Sochi. But there was a huge difference between knowing it and… well… _experiencing_ it. 

Every day he watched Victor in the rink, skating like an angel, and every day he exercised for hours and sweat half his bodyweight and counted every calorie going into his body just for the chance to join him. He kept himself away from Victor when he sweat: pausing a few stairs below him, staying on the opposite side of the bench, putting enough space between them that Yuuri’s pheromones wouldn’t be _obvious_. 

“Are you certain you don’t have a boyfriend, Yuuri?” Victor asked at the top of the hill, while Yuuri was bent over panting. 

“I don’t!” Yuuri said, watching the little flickers of Victor’s nostrils as he smelled him. 

“You can trust me, you know,” Victor promised. “I won’t post it to instagram.”

Yuuri tried to laugh. “I promise, Victor. I don’t have a boyfriend.”

“A friend, then?” 

“Huh?”

“An alpha friend,” Victor said. 

It was the first time they’d talked about it. Yuuri touched the back of his neck out of habit, as if he could cover up his smell, hide it from Victor’s inquiring olfactory sensors. 

“N-no,” Yuuri said. “Phichit’s beta, and Nishigori…”

“You can tell me anything,” Victor said.

Yuuri blushed. “I should get running.”

— 

This didn’t stop Victor’s inquisition. He kept… popping up. 

When Yuuri was on the way to the bathroom, when Yuuri went to rest in the hot springs, when Yuuri went to help Mari move or unpack. Victor would just, appear: “Yuuri! I didn’t know you were here!” like he’d been trying to catch Yuuri in the act. 

“V-Victor!” Yuuri always startled, watching Victor’s eyes dart around, look over his shoulder, peer around the nearby corners. 

But there was never anyone else for him to find. 

Just Yuuri.

— 

While Victor didn’t post about Yuuri’s non-existent relationships, he _did_ post about the castle on the hill, which resulted in a whole slew of tourists and journalists alike at the onsen. He would have preferred a hundred of them, however, to the single Yuri Plisetsky that showed up at the rink just as Yuuri reached his goal weight. 

Yuri Plisetsky had seen Yuuri at his worst: crying on a toilet, in the middle of a flare, on the verge of his cycle peaking, and after the most humiliating performance of his life (at least until Nationals). He was the very last person Yuuri wanted to see. And not just for that.

Much like Victor, Yuri Plisetsky was an alpha, and unlike Victor he’d yet to figure out just how to control himself. He kicked Yuuri to the ground, rubbed his foot across Yuuri’s face like Yuuri had stolen his mate. Yuuri growled before he knew what he was doing, which only made Yuri press harder. 

“Apologize!” Yuri commanded him, and Yuuri, before he knew what he was doing, did. 

It took minutes before Yuri got bored, let Yuuri up and explained that Victor had reneged on a promise. Yuuri sympathized for all of ten seconds before Yuri was assaulting him again, this time mocking him for his breakdown, for wasting Victor’s time, for — 

Yuuri snarled beneath his breath. He felt his hackles rise and stared down at this little alpha shrimp. 

He wasn’t worth Yuuri’s time.

He didn’t think he was worth Victor’s time, either, until he moment Yuri - who seemed to know so much more about Victor, to be so much more intimately aware of his inner life - demanded Victor return to Russia with him. Yuuri’s heart dropped onto the ice, and he stared at Victor in horror, realizing he was considering it. No: not just considering it, but making a game of it. This experience that was changing Yuuri’s life, Victor was going to casually use as the prize. The trophy for a competition against some angry, spitting teen.

— 

It got worse. 

Yuri came back to the onsen, insisted he was staying - and in Victor’s closet, no less. He all but recoiled when he walked into Victor’s room, his body arching in distaste at Victor’s scent. Growling, he grabbed a handful of the thick scent-eater tissues, made a point of scrubbing the edges of the closet, and then slammed himself inside. 

“You’ll get used to him,” Victor beamed. 

Yuuri wasn’t so sure. 

Yuri kept demanding: a bath, food, and then finally as Yuuri was preparing an actual room for Yuri - or Yurio, as Mari insisted on calling him - he heard Victor laughing. Before he could stop it, a crippling tightness crept into his chest and took his breath away. He clasped his hand near the base of his throat, like trying to ward off that invisible, internal assailant. 

The two acted so familiar with each other, Victor casually teasing his young rink mate, Yurio huffing and inflating his chest and growling at him in return. But Yuri was still…. well… _relaxed_ in a way that Yuuri had never managed around Victor before. 

Fight or flight kicked in, and before he knew it Yuuri was out of the onsen, fleeing across the bridge. He didn’t calm down until after he’d circled the ice several times, swaying between his practice jumps and flourishes of footwork. Of course Victor would be more calm around Yuri. Victor had realized he’d made a mistake, coming here, and now Yuri had given him an opportunity to escape. Yuri was 15 and already had so much potential - and confidence. Who would be crazy enough to choose Yuuri over someone like that?

Yuuri let out a breath as he turned on the ice. He floated around the rink’s edge, the rest of his thoughts falling away. The ice had a weird way of focusing him. It dampened the scents constantly assaulting his nose, made everything else seem so distant. Here there was just the ice. Just his body and his blades and the ice. 

What did Yuuri want? 

Yuuri wanted to win the Grand Prix Final, and he wanted to do it with Victor at his side.


	4. Chris: The Plan

“I have a plan.” 

There were few phrases more terrifying than Victor Nikiforov claiming he had a plan. Chris braced himself. “What, the sweating didn’t work out?”

“It did, and he’s definitely omega, but he’s hiding an alpha from me,” Victor grumbled. 

On the other end, Chris gave a laborious sigh. “Victor.”

“He is! I’ve been trying to catch them together, but my little minx is too smart for that. That’s why I needed a new plan. A better plan! There’s going to be a competition —“ 

“What kind of competition?”

“Ahh, that’s part one. My little minx is insisting on playing innocent, so I decided two could play at that game. I’m pitting him against Yurio.” 

“Huh?”

“Plisetsky.”

“Ohhhh— wait, what?”

“He flew to Japan.”

“What is it with you Russians, getting on planes at the drop of a hat and flying around the world?”

“I did it for my future husband, obviously,” Victor huffed. 

“And Yuri….?”

“Oh. I promised him something,” Victor said. “And forgot.”

“Classic Victor.”

“Hmph!”

“Tell me the plan then.” 

“Eros and Agape!” Victor trilled, voice slipping into this lower, movie-announcer rumble. “Agape: innocent, unconditional love. — That will be Yurio’s piece. I’m choreographing one for each of them.”

“I don’t know if your relationship has really been _agape_.”

“Hey! You aren’t supposed to know about that. He’d kill me if he knew I told.”

“Blame it on your rut.”

“I’m better than that.”

“Are you.”

“Hmph!” 

Chris made a game out of it, usually: seeing how many times he could make Victor huff in distress. Victor used to be much more composed, but Yuuri Katsuki had completely unraveled the poor soul. It was… pretty cute, really, listening to Victor whine like an omega in heat. Chris was chuckling before he could stop himself.

“What?!” Victor scoffed. 

“You’re cute. You really love him, huh?”

“CHRIS HAVE YOU NOT HEARD A THING I’VE BEEN SAYING.”

“I know, I know, future husband. Yuuri Nikiforov. I still think you’re crazy. But please, tell me about how you’re giving him Eros.” 

“I _am_ giving him Eros. Erotic love. Passion. Sexuality.” 

“So you get to talk to him about sex.”

“And make him think about our night of passion!”

Chris decided this would be a very bad time for him to talk about _his_ night of passion with Yuuri Katsuki. Or, well, afternoon, as it were.

“My little minx won’t be able to weasel his way out of this one. He’ll have to admit I’m his eros. And then I’ll take him to my room, and I’ll —”

“Ah huh,” Chris chuckled. “What? Propose on the spot?”

“Not on the spot.” Victor hummed. “I was thinking less marriage, more sweet love.”

“Should I warn him about your little marking problem?”

“That was ONE — okay, TWO—”

“Versailles.”

“Okay THREE times.”

“I rest my case.”

“Hmph!”

Chris laid out in his bed, smiling to himself, idly stroking the dense white fur of his cat and imagining Victor Nikiforov, panties in a bunch, pacing a Japanese guest room as he plotted the seduction of an incompatible partner. “Oh Victor,” Chris sighed. “What are you going to do if it doesn’t work out?”

“It will work out,” Victor said. “No one can withstand my charms.”

Chris shook his head. He slipped into French: “I love you, little wolf. Don’t let yourself get too hurt, okay?”

Victor gave Chris his growl: deep and throaty, rumbling with assertiveness, and Chris felt it shiver into his soul. “I know what I’m doing,” Victor insisted. 

“I know.”

— 

At the rink, Victor revealed his grand plan and both Yuris blanched. Yuri spoke up first, demanding Victor coach him if he won - and in Russia. On the exact opposite end of the spectrum: Yuuri wanted nothing more than to eat katsudon with Victor, and he swore he’d bring all of his eros to the table. 

Victor texted this to Chris alongside a series of praise and party popper emojis, and Chris couldn’t help himself. 

_victor’s always a handful. you doing okay?_

It took a few hours before he got a response.

_I’m going to try my best to skate his choreography._

Well, that wasn’t what Chris had been hoping for, but Yuuri had always been oddly formal. Shy. Admittedly not the characteristics Chris normally associated with alphas. But then, Yuuri had been different than other alphas in bed, too. So mindful of Chris, so gentle. He hadn’t bitten or scratched at Chris, hadn’t marked in any way (Chris had never been with a partner who didn’t find a way to pee _somewhere_ before the night was over). 

_you’ll blow him away_ Chris texted, but he only got a sweat face emoji in response.

— 

_What about this composition?_

Chris pressed play, watched Victor’s idea of eros play out over the ice. Victor was leaving nothing to the imagination, nothing to chance. This was a mating dance if Chris ever saw one. It worked twofold: not just what Victor wanted to see Yuuri skate - what Victor remembered of that blissful banquet evening. It was what Victor wanted to show off, too. He’d be demo-ing it for Yuuri, after all. 

_not enough ass_ , Chris replied. 

Five minutes later: 

_Better?_

That one Chris saved to his phone. He bit his lip as he watched Victor’s backside flash across the phone to the bounce of his footwork. Victor’s hands trailed down his body, his eyes sizzled, and his lips stayed parted just enough to make you wonder what he tasted like.

 _irresistible_ , Chris said. Victor had sent him enough scandalous photos - and talked about them later - to know Chris occasionally got off to them. But this was the first one that Chris felt indecent looking at. _wish i could return the favor_.

 _I can’t cheat on my future husband!_ Victor insisted, but he followed it up with a dozen kissy faces. 

Chris very nearly sent ass shots to Yuuri instead. 

_good luck_ , Chris texted the morning of the reveal, to both of them.

 _Thank you :)_ came from Yuuri. 

Victor’s was only devil emojis and kissies.


	5. Yuri: Eros & Agape

Yuri didn’t like the way Yuuri Katsuki smelled. 

It made him _uncomfortable_. 

Granted, he probably slightly overdid it with his gut reaction. As much as he loathed to admit it, Yuuri probably didn’t deserve to be kicked to the floor and have his face ground on. Yuri would never say any of this, of course. But he’d been watching how Victor handled himself - maybe not the best role model, but all Yuri had - and he _did_ eventually want to control himself better. At least a little bit. 

Eventually.

Yuuri’s scent was subtle, at least. He probably used Nose-Free shampoo and had a descenter, but there was only so much you could do against the sweat that came with practice. Yuri just avoided him.

It was subtle enough that Yuri didn’t notice the one day Yuuri came in and instead of having to suppress a competitive growl, Yuri found himself wanting another whiff.

“What’s with you, pig?” Yuri spat, but then Yuuri was off on the ice. 

Yuri could tell it had done a number on Victor, too. Yuri smirked at the way Victor kept looking around for another person, ignoring the obvious, until the day they came in to see their new choreography and Yuuri smelled _so nice_.

Ugh. Disgusting. The _last_ thing Yuri was going to do was get in the middle of that hot mess. 

He snarled at Yuuri as he past. Instead of his usual competitive chin lift, Yuuri just blushed. 

Winning this competition was going to be too easy. 

Yuri watched Victor skate agape, followed the footwork, the little glimpses of choreography he’d seen in St. Petersburg. It was new, but a mosaic of imagery Yuri was already familiar with. 

“Yeah, I basically got it,” Yuri said. His lip twitched at the rolling wave of anxiety Yuuri gave off in response. 

Eros was different. 

Yuri wanted to gag. 

Victor’s performances were always artistic: always intentional and crafted and evocative. 

But seriously, he was basically just fucking the ice and letting the whole world watch. _And worse_ \- ugh - it was working. The pig next to him unfurled like a flower and was fucking _billowing_ his pheromones all over the place. Even the betnik rink-owner fell down with a nose bleed. 

It was _disgusting_.

Yuri’s only relief was when Yuuri finally went on the ice to debrief with Victor, a wobbling wreck. Even without hearing what they were saying, the interaction was clear. Victor skated until he was chest to chest with Yuuri, touched his mouth and spoke like they were kissing. There must have been an invitation, a proposition, because Yuuri’s eyes flew even further open than they already were. 

Yuri’s nostrils flared at the sight. 

“Hey! Victor!” Yuri roared at them. Someone needed to end this suffering. “What happened to teaching me first?!”

Whatever he’d said to Yuuri left the pig in a stuttering state while Yuri skated out to learn his choreography. Yuuri spent several minutes shifting anxiously on the bench before Victor sent him off for basic training. 

“You two are sick,” Yuri grumbled to Victor. 

“Are you jealous?” Victor smirked. “Your rut’s not for another month I thought.”

Yuri crossed his arms. “Like I’d want to rut with that.” He cocked his head towards the pig’s bench. 

“Would it really be worse than me?” 

Yuri’s lip curled again. He hated being reminded. But at least he knew Victor. At least rutting with Victor meant no one else had to see him like that. 

“I’ll fly back to St. Petersburg for it,” Victor said. “If Yuuri wins.” 

“You’ll be in St. Petersburg,” Yuri cursed. “He’s not going to win. Look at him. You flew all the way out here for _that_?”

“You saw him,” Victor glared. 

“Yeah. I saw him fall and break down and humiliate himself.”

“The banquet.”

“That wasn’t the pig.”

Victor looked up, his eyes frowning though his face stayed pleasant. Yuri hated how Victor could do that, could just hide everything so no one could see it. 

“Tsch,” Yuri growled. “Just show me the styling at the end again.” 

Victor didn’t respond at first. His eyes stayed locked on the door Yuuri’d left through, and it was only after Yuri kneed him that he snapped back and repeated the choreo.

— 

By the time the light streamed in sideways, Yuri was exhausted. 

How many times had he run through it by now? He knew all the pieces, could hack them together well enough to get through the entire song. 

But Victor kept insisting it was _wrong_.

“Your greed is too obvious,” Victor said, and Yuri growled because what the fuck did that mean? “Having confidence is good, but this isn’t the place to show it off.”

“What!? _You’re_ the one who skated it so confidently!” Yuri barked at Victor. He slashed his hand through the air. “What’s agape to you then?!”

He shouldn’t have been so aggressive. Victor just laughed, and then lectured, and the next thing Yuri knew he was at a temple. 

“What’s this?” Yuri growled. 

“A chance for you to meditate. Agape. Unconditional love,” Victor grinned. “Go on, kneel.” He nudged Yuri, and Yuri smacked Victor’s hand off him. 

“Don’t touch me. You’re… hunting.”

Victor tilted his head to the side, then sniffed at his wrist. Not that you could really smell yourself. Most ferals adapted to their own scent before it could register. Yuri rolled his eyes at the gesture.

“Sorry,” Victor said. 

“Yeah,” and Yuri went to kneel. 

The next thing he knew a wooden plank came down across his shoulder. The sting only fueled Yuri’s anger. How the hell was this supposed to make him think of unconditional love?! What the fuck, Victor? He glared at Victor as the monk struck him, wondering if this was some passive aggressive punishment for insulting Victor’s latest obsession. It only took a few hits for Yuri to cry out with each one. By the time they walked back, his shoulders were hunched in pain and humiliation and the careful storage of hatred. Yuri’s specialty. 

“Did that help?” Victor asked.

“Go to hell.”

He sank into the hot spring, not even caring that Yuuri was in there already. The water muted the worst of the scent, and Yuri was too exhausted to get riled up over what remained. 

Ugh. Agape. 

_Agape_. Yuri grabbed one of the cool towels for his forehead while his body luxuriated in the heat, loosening after the day’s practice and the temple’s biting punishment. 

_Agape_. 

But the last thing he could think about was agape. Not when Victor strutted out buck naked and pulled away his towel. 

Honestly, it was pathetic. Yuri glared at him in disbelief. Yuri was _fifteen_ and he already knew better. Wagging your dick in someone’s face was rude as hell. And obvious as hell. Ugh. And then _take a picture of me_? Seriously?!

All Yuri wanted was to win this competition, take Victor back to Russia, and get his Grand Prix gold. Preferably without the constant embarrassment of these two fools. Was that too much to ask?

He figured it couldn’t possibly get more embarrassing than Victor shoving his dick in Yuuri’s face. That had to be the worst of it. 

“My eros!” Yuuri sat up, slamming the table at dinner. “It’s katsudon!” 

….Well. So much for that.

Idiots.


	6. Victor: The Yuris

“KATSUDON, CHRIS.”

Victor had been wailing about this for the past half hour. 

“I TOLD HIM TO FIND HIS TRUE EROS AND HE SAID KATSUDON.”

“And after such a powerful display, too,” Chris mused. 

“AND AFTER I DISPLAYED MYSELF TO HIM.”

“Mmmhmm.” Most of Chris’ job, at this point, was to listen and ‘mhmm’. 

“KATSUDON!” 

Chris sighed on Victor’s behalf. 

“I LAUGHED BECAUSE I COULDNT CRY.”

“I would have laughed too,” Chris promised. 

“ _KATSUDON_.”

“I know, baby.” Victor had probably said katsudon at least a hundred times since calling Chris. 

Victor spent a few minutes huffing and keening and generally sounding like a very frustrated pup. 

“What are you going to do if he loses.”

“He won’t lose. He can’t lose,” Victor said, but his voice wavered - denial on top of uncertainty. “This was just to motivate him. To prove I could play his game.” There was an uncomfortable silence.

“For a game, it doesn’t sound like either of you are actually winning,” Chris murmured. A silent Victor was the sorriest of all. “Why don’t you just… tell him?”

“He’s pre-heat,” Victor said, with that same rigid certainty. “I can smell it. He’s going to ask for me. How could he not?”

Chris could think of a bunch of ways. Including, you know, being an alpha. “It just seems like you’re setting yourself up for more disappointment.” 

“He’ll ask me! He’ll —“ 

Victor’s voice cut off. He swallowed down the roar that had bubbled up to his throat, leaving only a faint snarl. Yuuri Katsuki was everything.

He’d ask, wouldn’t he?

He hadn’t had that alpha smell on him recently. He’d ask Victor. He’d… 

— 

“Victor, I need to take two days off practice,” Yuuri said. 

Both Yuris returned from their waterfall trip looking shaken. Yuri’s normal huffiness was gone, replaced by thoughtful introspection. Yuuri looked… more frightened and anxious than usual. Distracted. And then he spoke and it all made sense.

Victor tried not to look too excited. This was it! His invitation — 

“I’d be happy to,” Victor winked. 

Yuuri’s brow bunched up in confusion. “What?”

Victor tilted his head. “You don’t need to be shy. I can help you.” And he added, with a glowing smile and a gentle tease: “As your coach, I’m supposed to make sure you’re back on the ice as soon as possible.” 

As Victor spoke, Yuuri’s face went pale as a ghost. 

“Oh - N... N-n-no I don’t— ,” Yuuri swallowed. 

“Yuuri,” Victor soothed. He brought his hand up under Yuuri’s chin again, stepping close. The very tips of his fingers curled to graze against Yuuri’s throat. This time he received a whimper, not a growl. “I’ll take care of you.”

Yuuri’s lips opened and closed, pupils dilating. “P-p-please stop,” he finally begged.

“But Yuuri —“ 

Only then, just like on the very first night, Yuuri bolted away, leaving Victor clueless and alone in his wake. 

— 

Victor found himself outside Yuuri’s door, like a stray dog chasing down the scent of a lady. Yuuri’s smell filled his nose and he whimpered, nails scratching gently at the wood. There was no response, only that scent, and Victor rolled outside the door, brushing his back and his neck against the frame, smearing his smell into the nooks that were so overpoweringly Yuuri. It was instinct more than anything, but even Victor recognized how sorry and pathetic it came across. He curled up there, ready to spend the night at Yuuri’s door in case he changed his mind. He would have, too, if Yuuri’s mother hadn’t arrived with a tray food. 

“Oh. Vicchan. Is Yuuri okay?” Hiroko asked. 

“He’s….” Victor started, but he had no idea. His head had been pounding, the sound of his heart overwhelming whatever noises from inside he might’ve picked up. “I’m not sure.”

“Poor Yuuri always feels bad taking breaks,” Hiroko said, putting the food down just outside the door. “And so close to the competition, too!”

She took Victor’s hand and pulled him away from the door, and he didn’t even realize what was happening until he was seated at a table, dinner laid out, Yuri already munching away beside him. 

“You can’t camp outside his door for two days,” Yuri glowered around a mouthful of noodles.

Victor’s head was still foggy. What happened? Why didn’t Yuuri… 

… Why didn’t Yuuri _want him_?

— 

He drank. 

It was a bad habit, but by the second night the emotions he thought he was controlling had swelled up and no amount of holding Makkachin helped. He went out, stuffed himself silly with food, and stayed out until dawn drinking, trying to imagine what could possibly have made the man he met at the Sochi turn him down like this. He wondered if he’d gone crazy, if he’d had too much to drink and imagined the whole banquet. But no. He opened his phone and there were the photos, those photos that had haunted him and then kept him alive and now felt like mockery. 

He came into the rink late: looking like shit, knowing it, and not having the energy to care. 

Then there was Yuuri, practicing with Yuri like he hadn’t spent the past two days _alone_ , going through the hell of his hormones. 

After a rut, Victor usually took a few days to get back to normal, but Yuuri just looked: focused, ready, able. 

….so. That was how it was going to be. 

What could he do? Victor wasn’t the type to give up. If Yuuri didn’t want him… well, he’d still made a promise to coach him. Maybe that was all he could do. At least for another day. At least until the competition. And then… Well, he’d figure that out after.

He just thought… he’d just thought they had something special.

Victor watched Yuuri practice. Something was different after Yuuri’s break. He could see wisps and hints of what he fell in love with: little moments of confidence and sensuality mixed in with that delicate vulnerability. 

That night, Victor laid in bed staring at his text window with Chris, not knowing what to type, or how. Chris had been texting him for the past two days with variations of “are you okay” and “I can see your read receipts, you know”. Just as he was about to start typing, Chris beat him to it. His little circle bounced and then the message popped:

_i hope you sleep in hasetsu tomorrow night_

Victor frowned. _I thought you thought this was crazy_

_i KNOW its crazy._   
_but i also know you love yuuri katsuki._  
 _so i hope you get to be with him_

Victor watched the bouncing bubble. Typing, typing.

_even if its hard_


	7. Yuuri: Seductive Katsudon

Yuuri had two days of wild hormones and embarrassing pheromones to think about what eros meant for him. 

Victor had offered to take him to a parlor. “I can help” he’d said. He’d been so forward about it, so inviting. But Yuuri didn’t want him to know. It was just easier if he didn’t have to explain himself. And besides: he didn’t like needing strangers. 

It was different if _they_ needed _him_. He felt good, helping them. He’d helped his rink mate in Detroit, the guy from his communications lecture that lived down the hall. Chris Giacometti. Yuuri would happily step in if someone else needed something. No one should have to go through that alone. 

Except Yuuri. He was fine, really. He’d always been fine, and for several years assumed it was the same with everyone. It took an awkward conversation with that rink mate to realize most people weren’t. For most ferals, hitting puberty and going into rut or heat meant no longer being able to get themselves off. They needed someone else’s pheromones to feel any sort of resolution or relief. Apparently, for most ferals, the idea of going through a cycle alone was equivalent to torture. That’s why parlors existed in the first place. But Yuuri just helped himself.

Probably another side effect of being a freak. 

Still. The point was, he’d appreciated Victor’s offer to take him to a parlor. It was sweet, and kind, and just another way Victor was looking out for him as coach and mentor. He’d been grateful - at least until Victor’s delicate touch on his throat made him soak through his pad in one embarrassing gush. He wasn’t even sure he’d make it to his room on time. He bolted. 

He slammed his door just as it started to leak and smear between his thighs. He locked himself in out of habit, for mutual protection. He didn’t want to dart out in a haze if an alpha happened to go by, and he’d had a guest actually knock on his door that one time, before he’d figured out how to use his descenter. 

Safe inside, Yuuri had two days not just to think about eros, but give in to it.

He spent the first day kneeling beside his door, taking deep breaths of the scent Victor had left on the other side as he satisfied himself. 

He had two toys, depending on his cycle, and most of his second day was just spent in bed, fantasizing about Victor while he tried to keep his jizz off the floor. His crinkly, waterproof bed topper always got wrecked, and this time was no exception. Usually the last several hours of his cycle were just spent cleaning up - he couldn’t bear to have anyone else wash his mess. That, he thought, was the one advantage of a parlor.

When he came to the rink the morning after, only a day away from the competition, Victor was nowhere to be seen. Yuri said he’d been drinking. He didn’t show up until almost noon, long after Yuri had started drilling Yuuri on his quad sal, and he looked terrible. But even bedraggled and floppy-haired, Victor was still the most beautiful person in Yuuri’s life. The one he’d thought about for two days straight.

The one he’d decided to seduce. 

— 

Yuuri pounded on Minako’s door. It was almost midnight.

“I need to learn to be more feminine,” Yuuri said. 

Minako wasn’t feral, or he would have said “more omega” - but feminine would do for now. Victor mentioned his girlfriends that one time. Perhaps he’d found one of those rarest female omegas, or a few betas with a knot fetish. 

Yuuri could be that, couldn’t he? He could be feminine, and he could channel everything he’d felt on his cycle into this performance. 

Minako taught him to lift his chest, extend his collar bone, to let his motions sway through his hips. She showed him how to move his arms like sighs and his wrists like songs, to run his hands over his body to accentuate his curves. 

He had too much energy to sleep, so the lesson continued through the night. Yuuri buzzed with anticipation as he left Minako’s studio, feeling sultry and desirable. 

— 

Instead of crashing from lack of sleep, he was bright-eyed and ready when the competition rolled around. His cycle and his lesson with Minako had left him invigorated. _Ready_.

Slipping into Victor’s old costume was like a dream. Just the thought that Victor’s body had once stretched the spandex made Yuuri light-headed, and if he hadn’t just cycled things probably would have gotten embarrassing. He still rubbed his cheek over it, let it get on his neck. No one would know. There had been a few adjustments the previous afternoon to ensure it fit, and now it was Yuuri’s. Yuuri’s little piece of Victor, forever. 

“Zip me up?” Yuuri asked as he came out of the bathroom.

Victor’s hand grasped the pull tab at the small of Yuuri’s back, dragging it upwards, sealing away his bare skin. 

“Yurio,” Minako came in. “It’s your turn.” 

Watching Yuri’s performance almost broke him, brought all of that anxiety bubbling back to the surface. When he looked up, Victor was there, looking softer now than he ever had before. He opened his arms, and finally Yuuri swam into them. 

“Please watch me,” Yuuri whispered, Victor’s scent filling him with want. “I’m going to become the tastiest katsudon.”

“Of course,” Victor said. He tightened his arms around Yuuri, voice gentle at his ear. “I love katsudon.”

— 

Once it was over, Yuuri stood on the podium. Instead of putting his hand on Yuuri’s neck or wrist, Victor stood behind him and to the side, steadying him at the bicep. Yuuri’s emotions overwhelmed him: pride at having won, relief that Victor would be his. He couldn’t even remember what he said in his interview, he shouted it so quickly, so loudly.

“Are you ready for dinner?” Yuuri asked Victor that evening, coming to his door. 

Victor rose from his bed, eyes supportive but without that aggressive intensity they’d had before. Even the scent of his room seemed muted, like maybe he’d taken out one of the scent capsules in the corners. 

“I’m always hungry,” Victor agreed. 

Yuuri smiled to himself, taking Victor’s hand and leading him to the dining room. There, laid out and ready, were two steaming bowls of katsudon. 

“I won, right coach?” Yuuri bit his lower lip. “So… we can eat katsudon together.” 

Victor stopped in his tracks. 

Yuuri let go of his hand and knelt on the pillow, still hopeful but unsure. He flashed Victor a little smile, warm and endearing and begging for Victor’s companionship. 

“Please?” he asked, and that snapped Victor out of it. Victor gave a soft laugh, taking his seat next to Yuuri and picking up his chopsticks. 

“Bon appetit, Yuuri,” Victor said to him. “Congratulations on your win.”

Yuuri had never felt so warm, and he hadn’t even started eating.


	8. Chris: Victor's Logic (or Lack Thereof)

“I promised I would be his coach, so I will,” Victor said. “Besides I… don’t want to leave him.”

“… Even though he rejected you?” 

Chris could hear the frown in Victor’s voice. It was late where Victor was. He was tired. One of those nighttime phone calls when your mind was overdue for a rest but couldn’t stop running. Victor grumbled: “Maybe he’s just conservative. One of those no-sex-before-marriage types.”

Chris choked on his drink. 

“Are you okay?” Victor asked.

“I don’t think he is,” Chris said, clearing his throat. 

“Why not?” 

“You know,” Chris said. 

“No, why.”

“Well… he… I told you he was an alpha,” Chris said. 

“You _think_ he’s an alpha,” Victor corrected him. 

Chris groaned. “No, Victor, I _know_ he’s an alpha.” 

“Well I _know_ he’s an omega,” Victor huffed. “I smelled him. I was outside his door when he went through his heat.” 

“Victor, listen to what I’m saying,” Chris frowned. “ _I know he’s an alpha_.”

The other end of the line went silent for a solid three seconds while Chris felt his chest imploding. “… He told you?” Victor whispered.

Chris let out a muted sigh. “No, baby… he knotted me.”

More silence. 

“I tried to tell you!” Chris insisted. “I kept telling you he was an alpha! I thought you’d, you know, you’d figure it out!”

More silence. 

“It wasn’t like we had a relationship. I spiked, remember? During the qualifiers? I was freaking out because it happened after my short program and I didn’t have any blockers and even if I did you know how they fuck me up and he just — he asked me if I was okay, and I let it slip, and he just - you know, he said he could help. It was cute. And we talked about it and he only needed to knot me once before the spike went down and that was — you know, that was that. We’ve only texted, like, three times since then. About nothing.”

Silence. 

“I never would have done it if I’d known! I didn’t know you were into him! This was before everything, before my heat, before the banquet. I would _never_ have slept with him if I’d known.” 

… 

“Victor? Say something? Please?” 

Chris chewed mercilessly on his lip, holding his head in his hand. 

“Baby?”

“…So,” Victor started. “You’re saying I’ve fucked the same ass as Yuuri Katsuki.” 

Chris blinked twice in some mix of disbelief and shock. “What? Y…. Yes? I guess? Yeah, like two weeks after?” 

“…That’s almost like fucking Yuuri Katsuki.” 

No, actually, it wasn’t. At all. But if this was how Victor was coping with the revelation…? “I mean sort of,” Chris wavered. 

“I’ve fucked Yuuri Katsuki.” 

“…Baby, are you okay?” 

— 

Victor had to take two trains to reach a district that actually sold feral sex toys. 

He snapped pictures of them to Chris. 

_Was it like this big?_   
_Oh! What about this one?_   
_Did it have a point like this?_   
_Was the knot perpendicular or did it veer down?_

Chris Giacometti had just woken up. Waking up to half a dozen photos of knotted dildos was NOT how Chris Giacometti expected to spend his morning. 

_its like 6am_

_Right but the knot_

Chris sighed. _i told you it was smaller than yours_. And then his brain finally caught up to what was happening. _victor_ , he texted. _why are you looking at knotted dildos_.

Chris was worried about Victor, and quite frankly thought he had every right to be worried about Victor. This was Victor, after all. 

… He mentioned Victor, right?

_I’m going to take his knot_

Oh god. 

Oh no. 

Oh baby. 

_baby no_

_I’ve even got PRACTICE_   
_All those times helping Yuri_   
_I’ll just put some smittens on him_   
_I’ll wear a muzzle_

_victor_

_It just needs to be pheromones that aren’t your own right_   
_I can help him_   
_Next time he ruts_   
_I’ll be there for him Chris_

_victor_

Victor sent another picture: _What about this one?_

There weren’t enough sighs in the world for Chris Giacometti. 

_yeah_ , he agreed. _thats close_

— 

Victor Nikiforov had stuck exactly two things in his ass. 

One was his own finger, and he couldn’t actually confirm this because it was a story from when he was a kid. But he wouldn’t put it past himself and generally accepted it as fact. 

The second was a thermometer, that time he’d accidentally dropped an oral one into the toilet. He didn’t want to put it back into his mouth after that, but it seemed perfectly acceptable to stick up his butt. 

This dildo was much larger than both his five year old finger and the oral thermometer. 

“Hmm,” he pondered. 

The knot was inflatable, but even without any air in it the girth was intimidating. Victor also didn’t know how to put something up his ass. Did he kneel? Did he lie on his back? Stomach? Did he squat? 

_Hey Chris_   
_Question._

And that was how Chris started his afternoon.

— 

It went downhill fast after that. Victor wouldn’t send him pictures but apparently laboriously detailed play-by-plays were fine. At least until Victor got lube all over his phone from trying to text and fuck at the same time. 

“Are you okay?”

The other end of the video chat was completely black, likely face down on the bed. 

“Uhm. How uhm. How do you enjoy this?” Victor asked, his voice stressed. 

“Well, for starters, my ass self-lubricates and is designed to stretch around cocks, knots, and the skulls of newborn babies,” Chris dead-panned.

“Ugh,” Victor groaned. “But like. Gay betniks. They do this. Right?”

“Yes,” Chris said. He’d watched plenty of beta pornography, even if he found knots far more appealing. Still, there was something about watching a dick going into a beta male’s ass, knowing how tight it was, how uncomfortable. 

Chris blushed behind the camera, imagining that’s how it was for Victor, too. 

“Just go slow, okay little wolf?” Chris said. “Promise?”

“It won’t even go _in_ ,” Victor whined. 

“You’ve gotta relax, baby.” That’s what the betas in the porn always said. “Take a deep breath and try to push it in when you exhale.”

He heard the over-exaggerated breathing on the other end, punctuated by a little shriek. 

“You okay?” Chris frowned. 

“I think I have to shit,” Victor winced. 

“No, that’s just how it feels,” Chris reassured. “Just leave it in for a bit. You’ll get used to it.” 

A wavering huff: “You really like this?”

“I live for it.” 

Victor groaned. Chris realized his hand was between his legs, thumb absently brushing under his balls, against his hole. 

It was already wet. 

“Why can’t I —“ Victor grunted in frustration. 

“Take another breath,” Chris said. His voice deepened into a soothing rumble. “Imagine this is Yuuri Katsuki’s cock. He’s in rut and he needs you.”

There was a long silence, a delicate whimper. They hadn’t played this sort of game in a long time.

“Is it going in, baby?” Chris purred. He pressed two fingers over his hole through the silky material of his briefs. 

“Yeah,” Victor mewled. 

“Good. You’re going to help him when he needs you,” Chris said. “Just like a good coach. You’re going to take his cock.”

Victor didn’t say anything, but Chris could hear his breathing getting heavier. Occasionally it hitched in pain, or let out in a shudder of tension. The wet, squishy, slurp noise had Chris salivating. 

“Is this helping, baby?” Chris asked. 

A whimper.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Chris smirked, moving his dampened briefs aside and letting his fingers stroke bare, needy skin. “Tell you more about Yuuri’s cock?”

“Yes— I —” 

“ _Victor!_ ” Yuuri’s not-so-distant voice sounded over the speaker. 

Victor yelped: “Hold on!” and then, softer: “I have to go!” 

Chris’ phone went dark. Call Ended. 

Another sigh. He looked down between his legs, at the bulge of his cock and the glisten of his fingers. 

He was already this far. Might as well finish.


	9. Victor: Yuuri's Trust

Yuuri was avoiding him. 

No matter what Victor wanted to do: go to the rink, grab dinner, have a sleepover, Yuuri shut him out. Just when Victor was rededicating himself to the pursuit of one Yuuri Katsuki, omega-smelling alpha, or alpha-cocked omega, or whatever the hell Yuuri was, he avoided Victor harder than ever. Victor tried not to let it bother him - at least until Yuuri missed practice one morning.

As Victor walked back to the onsen to fetch his student and coincidentally the love of his life and future husband, he wondered what had changed. He _thought_ he’d done a pretty good job of looking calm and composed that time Yuuri almost walked in on him with an inch of alpha dildo up his ass. He _thought_ he’d been kind when encouraging Yuuri to find music for his free skate and to explore all his options.

_And yet_.

“Let’s go to the beach,” Victor said, and Yuuri, lumpy and burrowed under his blankets, finally said OK.

They’d both grown up near the ocean, and when he closed his eyes Victor could almost pretend he was back in St. Petersburg. There were things he missed. Not the food. Not really Yakov yelling. Not even his apartment. But there was a feeling of familiarity he had in St. Petersburg where here everything was new. It was exciting, usually, but sometimes the difference was isolating.

He talked to Yuuri about the gulls, and when they fell into silence Victor decided, for better or for worse, he would finally follow Chris’ advice.

“What do you want me to be to you?” Victor asked. “A father figure?” Yakov had been Victor’s father figure when he didn’t have anyone else. But Yuuri just shook his head. “Brother? Friend?” Chris was his friend, and Yuri was like his little brother, always harassing him and aggravating him. Again Yuuri shook his head. “No…” 

Well, there was only one thing left. 

Victor felt his heart pound in his chest. 

“Alright,” he said. “Your omechko, then. I’ll try my best.” 

Yuuri leapt up off the sand with a shriek: “No no no no no!” 

Victor’s brow furrowed. What was left? 

“Stay who you are,” Yuuri insisted. “I like you just as you are. I was avoiding you because… I didn’t want you to see everything that’s wrong with _me_.” 

Ah. That was right. Yuuri didn’t know he was perfect. That he was everything Victor needed. All he wanted. The man he would marry. Yuuri still thought, somehow, that he wasn’t enough.

“OK,” Victor said. Then it was his job to show Yuuri just how incredible he could be. “I won’t go easy on you then.” He held out his hand. “That’s how I show my love.”

— 

Yuuri certainly seemed more relaxed after that - or as relaxed as the ever-anxious Yuuri Katsuki could be. He focused in his lessons, showed up at the rink on time, and somehow would only be breathing heavy when Victor was sweat-drenched and panting at the end. 

“You have… pretty good stamina,” Victor managed as he bent over to brush off his skates. “Ifeels like we’ve been skating for days. ….Haven’t you done your routine… a thousand times?”

“Only thirteen today,” Yuuri said. “I can go again.”

“I’m sure you can,” Victor gave a breathless laugh, swiping at the snow accreted on the side of his blade. “I have no doubt you—”

Yuuri Katsuki touched the back of his neck. 

Victor froze. At least a season passed in the moment of utter stillness and shock that transpired between the two of them. 

Then Yuuri squeaked, pulled his hand away and flushed red as borscht. “I’m so sorry!” Yuuri gasped. 

“Yuuri Katsuki,” Victor breathed, “trying to dominate me.” He sank to the ice.

“No no no no no no!” Yuuri yelped, kneeling in front of Victor’s splayed body and planting his face on the ice in a bow. 

“How will I ever recover,” Victor melted against the cool surface.

“I’m so sorry! I don’t know what came over me!”

“My masculinity is shattered.”

“No! You’re very masculine! You’re the most masculine!”

“Conquered by Katsuki.” Victor rolled to his back. It left his belly exposed, the ultimate submissive gesture, but it was playful, too. More than anything it said: I trust you. 

Yuuri flushed. “Victor…”

“It’s OK,” Victor reassured, fingertips dancing near Yuuri’s wrist but never touching. “I’d let you conquer me.”

— 

The alpha smell was getting stronger. It was easy enough to be playful at first, but as it grew Victor found it harder and harder to greet Yuuri with a smile and not bared teeth. 

It culminated the night Yuuri got his free skate music. He came barging into Victor’s room, onto his bed. Instinct flared and the next minute Victor had a hissing Yuuri Katsuki pinned underneath him, struggling, until Victor’s teeth latched at his neck. 

Just like on the ice, they both went stock still while time went on around them. 

“M-m-my free skate music came in,” Yuuri whispered. 

Victor’s heart was racing, adrenaline flushed through his veins. It took several seconds for Yuuri’s words to process. 

In that time, Yuuri shifted, and with the smallest motion actually pressed against Victor’s teeth, like an omechko begging for the bite. Victor’s jaw pulsed tight and then released. He scooted away from Yuuri, flicked on the lights.

“You startled me,” Victor murmured. He wiped the corner of his mouth with his wrist. 

Yuuri had his hand on his neck, where Victor bit. He hadn’t drawn blood, had hardly even dug his teeth in, and yet you’d think he’d been branded, looking at this face. Victor wasn’t sure if he was startled, relieved, disappointed, some combination?

“Are you okay?” Victor asked. 

It looked like Yuuri woke up from a dream. “Yes. I - I’m sorry.”

“It was me. I shouldn’t have — I normally have more control,” Victor said. There was a moment of awkward hesitation. “Show me your music?”

Yuuri nodded, carefully bringing the ear buds up. Victor leaned forward, offering one side of his face and then the other as Yuuri fit the little plastic nubs into his ears. It put Yuuri’s wrist so painfully close to Victor’s nose. There was still some of that omega scent, undeniable, but the alpha one was there too. Victor had never smelled anything that left him so torn, that made him simultaneously want to rut and attack. He pushed it out of his mind as Yuuri pressed the play button.

As Victor listened, everything else faded away. His face smoothed out, free of worry, and then grew into an enormous smile. Here was his Yuuri, his Yuuri who moved like music, made into music itself.

“Yes,” he laughed at the end. “Do you like it?”

“I love it,” Yuuri glowed. “I — I want that to be my theme.” 

“Your theme?”

That blush crept back over Yuuri’s cheeks: “Love.” 

Victor stared at Yuuri, then wrapped his arms around him, holding him to his chest. 

“That’s the very best theme of all.”


	10. Yuri: Stuck in a Rut

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If this seems abrupt, check out the first piece of this series: [Coming Into Season](http://archiveofourown.org/works/11592402)

Victor showed up to Lilia’s house with a small travel suitcase - quite possibly the least luggage he’d ever brought in his life. Lilia cracked her brow but didn’t say a word as he entered, but she didn’t move an inch, either. Victor gave a quiet growl as he scooted around her, feeling her eyes burning over his back. Just as he passed her, she snorted air out her nose. Victor leapt, startled, and yipped. 

Yuri, out of sight in the living area, smirked in amusement. The scent of her was painfully powerful. Yuri still wasn’t used to it, the overwhelming confidence and prowess of it, even living in Lilia Baronovskaya’s home. 

“He should go to a parlor,” Lilia said to Victor, judgment thick in her voice. 

“He doesn’t want to,” was Victor’s only reply. 

Yuri pattered away, weightless, so they wouldn’t know he’d heard them, and went to his bedroom. Victor knocked a minute later. 

Yuri didn’t mark; the room was more of a haven from Lilia’s scent, if anything, but Victor still wrinkled his nose out of habit as he entered. Yuri locked the door behind him. This was it for the next few days. Yuri had little food bars and jugs of water, all the basics covered so they’d never have to open the door. 

Victor looked around at Yuri’s new space. Before, they’d always used Victor’s apartment or gone to a hotel. Physically, the room didn’t look much like Yuri. A few angry posters were the only personality beyond Lilia’s standard, opulent decor.

“How’re you holding up?” Victor asked. 

“Warm,” Yuri said, lifting his shirt up over his head. 

“An hour or two, then.”

“Yeah.” Yuri tossed his shirt into a messy pile in the corner, then stripped with equal informality until his body was bare. His cock was already mostly hard, and he used his bundled briefs to catch the musk that leaked out of the tip. Victor’s lip curled at the smell. 

“I didn’t realize Lilia…” It was Victor’s first time meeting her.

“… Yeah,” Yuri frowned. Living in another alpha’s home was… difficult, to say the least. But he’d sold his soul. He’d said his body was hers, no holds barred. “It sucks.”

Victor winced in sympathy, then a deeper concentration as he imagined living with Yuuri. Not just in the same building. Surely two alphas could live harmoniously in the same room … The same bed. 

“Snap out of it, old man,” Yuri said. 

Victor didn’t even bother glaring. It was useless with Yuri. He set his bag down near the dresser, pulling out the mittens. He wouldn’t have to sleep with Yuuri like this, would he? Mittens on so they wouldn’t hurt each other? All their interactions filtered through that buffer? 

No… Victor had touched Yuuri’s wrists before. His throat. They hadn’t leapt on each other, struggled, tried to kill each other. 

They’d be okay, Victor repeated to himself, but for some reason it felt more urgent now that he figure out how to work with Yuri.

“Can’t believe the pig let you come out here,” Yuri said, double-checking the blinds and then drawing the curtains closed. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

“I said you needed some help.” 

Yuri growled. “Like he won’t know from that! You’re so fucking obvious.”

“I told him it was for jumps,” Victor snarled back. He took a deep breath to calm himself down. Yuri’s pheromones were getting to him already. He could do better than this. He was better than this. 

“Come here,” Victor said. 

Yuri came. He held out his hands and Victor slid the smittens onto his fingers. Yuri’s nails burrowed into the fleecy black fabric, and Victor tightened the strap at the wrist. Yuri flexed his fingers inside the mitts, growling low at Victor, breathing through his mouth. Alphas never liked restraints, really, but they’d both decided it was easier this way. Less likely to wind up with either of them scarred.

The next piece of their rut-wear was the muzzle. Victor held it up to Yuri’s face and Yuri glowered as it fell across the bridge of his nose all the way beneath his chin. The edges were all soft, padded leather, comfortable for extended use, but the grill over the mouth was sturdy metal. There were two latches: behind Yuri’s head and at the base of his skull, so he couldn’t shake it free or rub it off with his mittened hands. 

“I hate this,” Yuri said, and through the muzzle his disgruntled pout was almost endearing.

“You’ll get better at controlling yourself,” Victor reassured. “Too tight?” 

Yuri tested it, then shook his head. “Hey,” he said, mittened hand catching at Victor’s forearm. “Bite low, okay?

Victor was pulling out his own mittens, sliding his hands into them and using his teeth to tighten the wrist strap. “What, got a new jacket?” 

“I just don’t want to cover up every day,” Yuri grumbled. 

“Alright.”

Yuri’s nodded - acknowledgment, subtle gratitude, something like that - and went to the bed. There was a scent-catcher over the sheets, and the duvet was gone entirely. They’d be too warm for that anyway. Yuri climbed on, kneeling there, and looked over his shoulder at Victor. 

“Hurry up.” 

“We’ve got plenty of time,” Victor said. He was carrying a massive bottle of water over, the straw thin enough to fit through Yuri’s muzzle. Setting it on the night stand, he joined Yuri on the bed. 

“Just start now,” Yuri murmured. “So it doesn’t get as bad.” Yuri wrapped his mittened hands over the edge of the headboard, staring at the wall. There was a struggle when Victor touched his hip - a snarl, a glare over his shoulder, an attempt to buck him off. But Victor was stronger than him. Over him. He felt Victor’s weight on his back.

He hated it. He hated this part so much. He hated — 

And then Victor’s teeth were at his neck, and Victor’s hand was between his legs. Yuri went still save for the growl vibrating in his throat. A surge of lust radiated out from that point of contact and consumed him. His heart stuttered in his chest, his skin suddenly pricked with pre-sweat. He couldn’t think. All of his world narrowed down to a single pinpoint. Nothing else existed. Only his need to mate.

When he tried to say more there was only a roar. 

Thrusting into Victor’s mitt was nothing like an omechko - not that Yuri would know. But the scent of Victor, when it wasn’t triggering Yuri’s bloodlust, was still enough to address that primal, biological sledgehammer. 

His knot started slamming against Victor’s fist, trying to break through the way he’d hammer it into an omechko, one day. Thrust after thrust after thrust until Victor’s grip loosened a fraction and Yuri’s pulsing knot popped through. He didn’t process any of it: just need, just blind, raging, insatiable need. 

Then Victor’s hand went tight behind his knot, locking him in place. 

Yuri could smell his come gushing out onto the scent-catcher. He howled as Victor bit into his neck, hard enough to draw blood. Then the haze started to fade, the fiery fog lifting, however briefly. 

“You swear…” Yuri panted, “… it gets better?”

“Only before and after,” Victor said, licking at Yuri’s neck, the blood calming his instincts so he didn’t do anything worse to Yuri. “Rut… rut’s always hard without an omechko. Chris helps me—”

“You think I don’t smell him on you after?” 

“He’d help you, too, if you asked.”

“No,” Yuri growled through his muzzle. He wasn’t even looking at Victor, just glaring ahead. “I want it to _matter_.” He snickered. “Why don’t you breed your pig?”

“He’s not —” But Victor’s defensiveness must’ve sent out a new wave of pheromones. Yuri struggled under Victor until he was wrenched back down, and they were suddenly on their sides. 

“Fuck,” Yuri cursed. He had a flare of adrenaline and tried to elbow Victor, but Victor had the upper hand. He grappled Yuri - some weird hug - and pinned his upper arms to his side. This, however, meant he let go of Yuri’s knot. 

Victor grabbed it again almost immediately, but not before Yuri lost himself to instinct. The two wound up rolling on the bed, smearing into the dampness of Yuuri’s spend. It might as well have been acid for how it felt on Victor’s skin. Just the idea of it made him scrape himself against the scent-catcher, all while trying to fend Yuri off. They knocked over Yuri’s lamp as they fell off the bed, barking and growling at each other. Victor would have been lacerated by Yuri’s claws if it weren’t for the mittens. He felt the press of metal against his neck where the muzzle kept Yuri from biting him, giving Victor the time he needed to wriggle away. 

With a roar, Yuri tackled Victor back onto the bed. Victor let himself go with the momentum. He wound up flipping Yuri over him, then pounced, and finally his teeth found purchase on Yuri’s neck.

As he dug his teeth into Yuri’s wound, Victor felt his stomach drop in despair. 

It couldn’t be this hard, between two alphas. It _couldn’t_ … 

… Because if it _was_ … 

Victor closed his eyes, tried to focus on the tang of Yuri’s blood and the pulse of Yuri’s cock. 

Because if it was, what chance did he and Yuuri have?


	11. Yuuri: Competition

Yuuri Katsuki was anxious, but that was nothing new. 

He twirled across the ice, taking a rest between practicing his short program and free skate. As he moved, his fingertips brushed over his neck, where Victor had bit. It hadn’t left any sort of visible, physical mark. It hadn’t even hurt, much less broke skin. 

But Yuuri _felt_ it, constantly, like his heart was just beneath the surface, throbbing. 

Victor had bit him, like an alpha bearing down on their rival… or their mate. 

And for all of Yuuri’s virulent hormones, when Victor’s teeth had landed on his neck instinct made him freeze. It instantly quieted him and in that absence the softer, gentler side of him rose up. The side that wanted to seduce Victor. The side that wanted to offer his neck, and his stomach, and his ass, and oh god — 

_He’d leaned into it_. 

He’d leaned into the bite! And Victor had noticed! Not that he said anything, but Yuuri felt it, the sudden tension at his neck, the response to Yuuri’s offer. 

So much for just friends! So much for trying to be professional with his coach! 

Yuuri had been trying so hard to be respectful, to not fall apart at the feet of his idol, whom he’d worshipped for so much of his life. 

It had been so bad, Victor had to leave Hasetsu entirely! 

Sure, he claimed it was to help Yuri with his jumps, but Yuuri had seen Yuri’s jumps. Yuri was far better than him. Yuri’s technicality was unmatched by anyone but Victor himself. There was no way Yuri needed Victor’s help more than Yuuri, which meant… 

Which meant it must have been something about Yuuri. 

Victor needed to get away. Away from Yuuri who had let his deepest desire slip out. 

It helped, at least, that Yuuri’s cycle hit again. Not ten hours after Victor left for the airport, Yuuri locked himself in his room and took out his other toy. He couldn’t imagine how he’d act with Victor during this phase, if he’d been there. Would he tear Victor apart? Attack Victor and force Victor to actually bite him - actually _bleed_ him - to address that bloodlust?

He felt red hot all over just remembering it. Normally he came out of his cycles feeling calm and re-energized, free of the building emotions and tension that plagued the lead-up to rut or heat. But now there was just shame, embarrassment, and a morbid curiosity at what Victor would do when he came back.

—

_Landed!_

Yuuri’s heart leapt up into his throat when he got Victor’s text. He stood up before realizing that was silly. Between deplaning and customs and the journey to Hasetsu it would still be hours before he saw his coach, but he paced regardless. At his side, Makkachin’s tail wagged like a snare drum, sensing Yuuri’s excitement. 

“Yuuri! Show me your free skate,” were Victor’s first words when he returned. Yuuri had gone to the rink, unable to bear the anticipation of Victor’s arrival, and that’s where his coach found him, listlessly circling and occasionally bounding up into a jump or weaving his blades in beautiful step sequences. 

“Did you teach Yuri your quad flip?” 

“Huh?” Victor asked. 

“… is that what you were helping him with?” Yuuri skated to the edge of the rink. He wanted to open up his arms, to give Victor an enormous hug. He’d missed his coach so much, cycle or not, but now… now he was terrified Victor was repulsed by him. 

“No,” Victor smiled. “Just his sal.” 

They stood on either side of the half wall. Victor reached down and touched Yuuri’s hand, then Yuuri’s wrist, and Yuuri went still once again. Just like before. 

“Show me your love?” Victor asked. 

“M-m-my…” Yuuri’s hearing was going, cottony with the bass of his heartbeat. 

“Your free skate,” Victor said, rubbing his thumb across the backs of Yuuri’s knuckles. “You said your theme was love.” 

“Yes,” Yuuri whispered. 

“Will you show me?” 

Yuuri swallowed, then offered Victor his softest smile. “Don’t take your eyes off me.” 

— 

“It wasn’t very good,” Victor sighed when Yuuri finished. He spent the next five minutes detailing all of Yuuri’s flaws and sloppiness, each one another stone that pulled Yuuri’s shoulders to the floor. 

“You had three days to practice. What happened?” Victor asked. 

“Well… I … I had to take another few days off,” Yuuri flustered, cheeks a bright red. He looked to the side. 

Victor put a finger to his lips. “But you cycled three months ago.” 

Yuuri’s face darkened: “Yes, Coach.” 

“You shouldn’t be due for another twelve weeks,” Victor mused. 

Yuuri’s eyes widened. “D-d-did you put my cycle into a tracker?!”

Victor beamed. “Of course! How else am I supposed to know when you’re going to be moody and difficult to work with?” 

Yuuri bowed his head between his outstretched arms, staring at the ice while he tried not to shrivel up and die. “So embarrassing,” he whispered to himself. 

“If you want to be even,” Victor chimed, “My rut’s due three days after the Cup of China.” 

“So you’re going to be yelling at me all through my first qualifier!?” Yuuri looked up without rising from his bent position.

Victor folded his arms over the rink wall, placing his chin on top of them. “…. Probably, but that has nothing to do with my rut,” he winked. 

Yuuri’s ass clenched. 

“Here,” Victor said. “I’ll add it to your app.” He reached for Yuuri’s phone, on the table behind the wall, but Yuuri yelped and snatched it away. 

“No! No.” Yuuri shuddered. “Three days after the Cup of China. I can remember that. Promise.” Yuuri was doing the mental math in his head. “So… you’re in the clear besides that…?”

Victor chuckled. “Mine’s usually four months, but it occasionally skips.”

Yuuri tilted his head back, then his eye widened. “That means - right before Worlds!?”

“Yes.” 

“… and you still performed like that?” 

Another wink.

Yuuri stared at his coach in shock, with a newfound level of respect. 

“That’s how I know you’ll be fine for regionals,” Victor said. “Now. Come on. Again.”


	12. Chris: Forcing Function

_I think I’m close_

_then just come???_

_No. I mean. To having it all in_

_…. are you still trying to take that dildo?_

_He cycles every three months??? Have you ever even heard of that? I only have 11 more weeks until I have to be ready for him._

_… that’s right before gpf_

_Right. I need to make sure he gets through it OK._

_… so what does close mean?_

_Like halfway in?_

_so you haven’t even gotten to the knot_

_I mean I’m almost there_

_… baby have you ever paid attention to how you fuck when you’re in rut?_   
_yuuri’s not going to take it slow_   
_or let you take a break_   
_or stop if it starts to hurt_

_But there are people who do it_

_rut porn isn’t ACTUAL rut_   
_they’re just actors_

_But there have to be SOME people who do it!_

_it really seems like_   
_if you’re going to try this_   
_it shouldn’t be when he’s rutting_

_But how is he going to survive?!_

_however he did last time. didn’t you say he just went to his room?_

_Yes but HOW_

_ASK HIM_

— 

It wasn’t that Chris didn’t appreciate the constant texts from Victor about his sexual explorations. They gave him plenty of fuel for his own masturbatory explorations, which in turn fueled his short program. It was just that, Victor used to keep track of _Chris’_ cycle. Victor used to talk to _Chris_ about his rut. They used to look at the skating schedule as soon as it was released and plan their trysts. 

He loved Victor. Always had. He wanted Victor to be happy, to get together with the one he so clearly and desperately loved. 

It just sucked that it came at the expense of his and Victor’s relationship. 

… Speaking of his and Victor’s relationship. 

One of Victor’s fan blogs had tracked down footage from one of Yuuri’s fan blogs of the Japanese regional competition. Victor was holding Yuuri from behind, whispering into his ear, breathing the scent off his neck. 

One of Chris’ fan blogs had found the Victor fan blog and tweeted Chris’ with “What is your husband doing.”

It took all of Chris’ willpower not to respond with “Excellent question.” 

—

…OK but really, what WAS Victor doing, and why did he have to look so damn good doing it? 

And it wasn’t just Victor, either. 

Chris watched the video of Yuuri’s short program and had to change into a new pair of briefs afterwards. 

_damn._   
_did your master teach you that?_

He didn’t expect Yuuri to respond; he rarely did. But that evening Chris received:

_Victor choreographed the routine_

_you know what i mean_. There was another long interval of no response. Chris knew it was probably too bold. Yuuri always balked at Chris’ none-too-subtle innuendo. But again, he was surprised to see the little bouncing balls of Yuuri responding.

_He gives me confidence to be more than I thought I could_

These two were meant for each other. Chris shook his head at his phone. Fuck them both for being so disgustingly adorable. 

_you give him something special too_

Yuuri sent a blushy emoticon. 

_he wouldn’t have chosen you otherwise_

_I don’t want him to regret training me_

_he doesn’t_   
_he talks about you all the time_   
_you’re the best thing thats happened to him_

Yuuri was typing, then nothing, then typing again. Chris waited, head cocked to the side. He flicked to his chat window with Victor. 

_he did that way better than you, little wolf_

_Did. You. See. His. Ass_

_that whole rink saw his ass_

Yuuri’s message popped up:

_I’m sure most coaches dedicate their time to their students_

_i’ve never seen a coach act like that before_

He flicked back to Victor. 

_Well the stadium doesn’t get to go home with it_

_does that mean you talked to him? about his rut?_

_I told him to seduce me_

_he did that nine months ago_

Another notification from Yuuri appeared at the top of his phone: 

_I guess Victor is a slightly different coach than any other_

_that’s putting it lightly ;)_

Victor:

_AND EVERY DAY SINCE_   
_Did you see his free skate too_

_yeah he hammered himself into a wall for you_

_I have a tendency to make people’s noses bleed_

_usually not due to harsh impact_

Chris flicked back to Yuuri’s chat. 

_your face alright?_

Victor piped up:

_His theme is love_

_and yet you won’t talk to him about it_

_My little minx is the one who set up the game_   
_I’m just trying to keep it interesting for him_

_what’re you going to do when you cycle? right after cup of china right?_

_Yes_

_i’m going to be there, you know_

_I know :* But what about Yuuri_

Chris chewed on his lip. He flipped back to Yuuri. 

_hey. i know you and victor are kind of close_   
_you mind if i rut with him after cup of china_   
_we’ve always helped each other out_   
_figured it might give you a break from bloodlust too_

He waited, watched the messages get read. Again, Yuuri kept typing, deleting, typing.

_its totally cool if not_   
_he’s fine going to parlors_

Chris flipped back to Victor. 

_i’m asking him if he minds_

_WHAT?!_


	13. Victor: Wrecking Revelations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes things gotta get worse before they get better

Victor was sitting next to Yuuri, both of them idly scrolling through their phones, answering texts, enjoying the celebratory katsudon settling in their stomachs. 

Or so Victor thought. 

A wave of pheromones exploded from Yuuri like an atomic bomb, and it wasn’t until Victor got his next text from Chris: _i’m asking him if he minds_ that Victor realized why and nearly choked.

Yuuri glanced up at Victor, and Victor cleared his throat, pretending he didn’t know. 

“Is something wrong, Yuuri?” Victor asked, laying his arm around Yuuri’s shoulders. The scent that radiated off him was filled with fear and embarrassment and _want_.

“Chris just… you and he…” Yuuri murmured. “You cycle together?”

Victor tried to stay smooth and suave. He put on his traditional charm. “Usually. We didn’t before Worlds. I wasn’t…” _wasn’t in a place where I could care about anything but you_. “I needed a parlor then. But before that, yes.” Victor looked into Yuuri’s eyes, saw the glittery tremors in them. “It was just easier. He goes into heat after Worlds and between the qualifiers, and I rut before Worlds, and before qualifiers. My cycle’s been a bit… off this year.”

“So… after the Cup of China…” Yuuri looked away. “You and Chris…”

Victor’s eyes followed the curve of Yuuri’s jaw. He was still emanating wave after wave of scent, rich and deep like an omechko. 

“If I want,” Victor started. Was Yuuri tilting his neck? “Are you alright, Yuuri? You seem upset.” 

“No no no,” Yuuri excused, but it didn’t change his body language: his hunched shoulders, that scent of yearning.

“I can smell you, you know,” Victor said, voice a delicate tease. 

“I’m sorry.”

“I like it,” Victor clarified. Yuuri blushed bright red, laying his head on Victor’s shoulder.

“It’s hard to control sometimes. But I’ll be okay. Thinking of you and Chris just…” 

Victor knotted his brow, wondering why Yuuri would be upset that — Suddenly everything clicked for Victor. He lifted his brow in abrupt understanding. 

“You’re jealous,” Victor said. 

Yuuri hid in the crook of Victor’s shoulder, like he’d been caught. 

Victor felt his heart sink. He should have known. He rubbed his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. 

“Alright,” Victor charmed. “I won’t rut with Chris.” 

Yuuri flushed: “…f-for me?” 

Victor put a smile on his face, hiding his frown. He hadn’t realized… It made sense, though. Chris was charming, sexy, attractive. Victor couldn’t blame Yuuri’s attraction. Yuuri had mated Chris when he had that spike. It didn’t take much to be caught in Chris’ gravity. 

And that night… Yuuri had been dancing with Chris almost as much. They’d been up on that pole, showing off their musculature, sinuous bodies weaving together and supporting each other. 

Victor glanced down at his phone. Of course, he couldn’t tell Chris about Yuuri’s feelings. 

_I don’t think this is the best time,_ Victor texted. _I’m sorry, cheri_

_i had a feeling :* enjoy yourself~_

“When Chris goes into heat,” Victor said to Yuuri. “I’ll tell him I can’t help him.”

He smiled again, squeezing Yuuri’s shoulders. That would open up an opportunity for Yuuri to go after him. 

Yuuri was still red as an apple. 

“Are you sure?” Yuuri asked. “...the two of us?” 

Victor ensnared Yuuri, put his lips near Yuuri’s ear. “Anything for you. That’s the way I show my love.”

— 

Victor laid in his bed that night, staring at the ceiling, as had become something of a habit. Makkachin cuddled under his arm, whining until Victor dropped a hand to his head to pet him. 

He wasn’t sure what to do anymore. 

This incredible omechko that he’d flown around the world for, thinking himself summoned by a truly remarkable performance of Victor’s own free skate, had turned out not only to pretend the night they fell in love never happened, but also to be, in fact, not an omechko at all, and on top of that: more interested in Victor’s best friend! After such a misleading speech at regionals, too…

It didn’t make sense. None of it made sense. 

Yuuri Katsuki. 

Victor let out a soft snort. 

Yuuri Nikiforov. 

He’d been a fool. 

— 

By the time the Cup of China came around, Victor could feel the tension of his upcoming rut. It was subtle: a rubber band stretched millimeter by millimeter over the days. It showed in the occasional snap, in how much harder it was to control his growls. He ran scent eaters over his neck and wrist so he wouldn’t get anyone around him riled up.

These concerns didn’t prevent him from being a veritable blanket over Yuuri on the flight. Yuuri’s smell had been incredible, ever since their talk. And Yuuri had been so much more affectionate, too! He kept grinning at Victor, coming close to him after every practice run and lifting his chin. The constant glimpses of neck felt like little offerings. 

Victor had never imagined Yuuri would be so grateful to have his blessing. 

“Are you going to be okay sharing a room?” Victor asked when they arrived. 

“I thought that was the point,” Yuuri smiled. “Coach.” Ah. That game again.

Victor smirked. “I know you were worried about me yelling at you.” 

“You said that would happen anyway,” Yuuri gave that confident cock of his brow, eyes gleaming and playful and erotic and Victor _wanted_.

Why was it, after Victor told Yuuri he could go after Chris, that Yuuri would turn up his charms to eleven? Was he practicing on Victor? Testing the waters so he was prepared for Chris? Whatever it was, Victor’s normal control was being stretched to the limit. He had to mine for his last reserves of strength, and even then he was still fantasizing every few moments about pinning Yuuri to the ground and ravishing him. 

He knew Yuuri was an alpha. Or had a knot. Or whatever. He _knew_ that, mentally. But biologically his body still swore Yuuri was omechko - one who was using every tool in the box to seduce Victor. That scent alone…

They made it to their hotel room and Yuuri unpacked right next to Victor, shoulders brushing. He kept looking up at Victor with those twinkling brown eyes.

“Are you excited to see me,” Yuuri hummed. 

“I’m certain you’ll seduce me with your performance again,” Victor teased. 

“That shouldn’t be too difficult, given your state.” 

Yuuri canted his head again, exposing his neck. It was incredibly confident for an alpha. Victor gave a quiet growl, and the noise made Yuuri beam. 

“Be kind, Yuuri,” Victor begged. 

“Yes, coach,” but his grin said otherwise.

Victor wasn’t going to last if he stayed in that room, so he coped the only way he knew how. 

“Let’s go get dinner,” Victor invited his charge. Dinner, and as much alcohol as Victor could handle.


	14. Yuuri: Victory

Yuuri Katsuki was on cloud nine.

Victor Nikiforov was going to mate with him. Victor had turned down Chris in favor of spending his rut with Yuuri. He hadn’t been disgusted by Yuuri, hadn’t run to St. Petersburg to get away. Maybe Yuuri had even overwhelmed him! Whatever had caused Victor’s departure, that was the past. He wasn’t sure how Victor had figured it out, Yuuri’s unique anatomy, but Yuuri wasn’t going to question it. Victor was going to rut, and Yuuri was going to be there for him. 

Yuuri could finally give back to his coach in this one small way. 

He kept reminding himself that cycling with someone didn’t mean anything. People did it out of convenience all the time. 

But it would mean something to _Yuuri_. 

Bolstered by Victor’s invitation, Yuuri allowed himself to embrace his sexuality. He flaunted his neck at Victor, offered him opportunities to nip. Victor flirted with him, but never took the bait, which only made Yuuri work harder for his coach’s attention. He stopped wiping off with scent eaters and just let Victor drown in the smell of him, everything Yuuri had to offer. 

He might have overdone it, but he couldn’t deny how wonderful it felt that first night in Beijing, Victor drunk and hanging across his shoulders.

It was less wonderful the next day, when Phichit posted a photo that showed exactly how much Victor had hanging. All the more reason to make this performance count.

Yuuri tucked himself into Victor’s old outfit, luxuriating in the familiar glide of spandex and mesh. Up his legs, over his dance belt, hanging briefly on his hips like a half-dressed scuba diver. Then he slid his arms in and returned to Victor, asking. 

“Of course,” Victor said, and he dragged the zip from the root of Yuuri’s spine up to the back of his neck. Yuuri glanced at Victor over his shoulder, gave him hist most seductive smile, and tried to ignore the growing anxiety of competition as he stepped back into the hall.

It was harder to ignore the sudden hand on his ass, squeezing. Yuuri yelped.

“Why didn’t you invite me to your drunken foray?” Chris purred into his ear. 

“Chris!” Yuuri exclaimed. He was worried the Swiss skater would be upset with him, but instead Chris simply rolled his hand up Yuuri’s side.

“Your master’s been training you well, to get into this kind of shape,” Chris smirked, and Yuuri twisted, giving him a sultry growl.

“Chris! How’s it going?”

Chris let go of Yuuri as Victor approached. “How am I supposed to motivate myself with you,” Chris purred, tugging on Victor’s badge. 

“You’re always like that at the start of a _season_ ,” Victor smirked, and Yuuri barely noticed the flicker at the corner of Victor’s eye, that tiny hint that he was hiding something.

Everyone kept calling for Victor: Chris’ coach, several of the women’s skaters — all begging Victor to return. None of them thought Yuuri was worth it. Yuuri flushed as Victor handled the attention effortlessly. 

“It’s quite the sin, keeping Victor to yourself,” Chris teased, a hint of wistfulness to his voice. Yuuri kept catching bits and pieces of Victor’s conversation. They were telling Victor to break up with him, to come back to the ice. 

“The whole world is hoping for his return,” Chris said.

Yuuri flushed. He hovered next to Chris a moment longer. 

“Hey — I — thanks for letting me take this one,” Yuuri said, stuttering with embarrassment. 

Chris’s brow knit in confusion.

“I know it’s usually you and Victor,” Yuuri clarified. But that didn’t seem to make Chris any less confused. “But when you - if you need someone for your heat…”

Chris gave a fond little snort: “Do you want to bed me again, mon cheri?”

“I could, or Victor —” Yuuri started. “I just… you don’t have to go to a parlor. If you don’t want.” 

Chris ticked his head to the side. “Well… aren’t you full of surprises.” 

—

The more Yuuri watched the other skaters perform, the more nervous he became. He found himself pacing the hall after Phichit’s short program, trying to tune out whatever conversation Victor and Chris were having to the side. Maybe Chris was asking Victor to cycle with him. 

Yuuri tried not to think about it.

It was okay. 

He was Victor’s. Victor had chosen him. Victor was going to rut with him. Tie with him. Victor’s knot was going to — 

Yuuri found himself on the ice. How had he gotten there? His fist rested on the barrier and Victor covered it with his hand, squeezing. 

“You don’t need katsudon anymore,” Victor assured. “You’ve found your own charm.” His index finger brushed Yuuri’s knuckles, and Yuuri felt that familiar glob of emotion in his throat. 

_Victor_ was what Yuuri had finally found. 

He shifted his hand, lacing their fingers together. Their palms touched in an intimate embrace and Yuuri leaned over the barrier, pressing his forehead to Victor’s. 

“Everything I do is for you,” Yuuri whispered. “You better not miss a moment.”

— 

Yuuri Katsuki flew across the ice, all of his sensuality laid bare. This was his time to show everyone just how worthy he was. The rest of the world wanted Victor Nikiforov, but Victor Nikiforov belonged to Yuuri. 

_Yuuri_ was the one who would satisfy him. The only one who could. _Yuuri_ was the one Victor had flown across the world for. _Yuuri_ was the one that captured Victor’s attention.

He nailed his footwork, his quad sal, his combination. 

He would show the world his love. He would prove he was worth Victor’s absence. 

It felt like a fever dream, a wet dream, a masterpiece of all Yuuri was capable of, and at the end he gazed, flush faced, at his coach. 

They sat next to each other in the kiss and cry, Yuuri’s sweat beading down his face, his blood rushing beneath his skin. 

“Did that feel good, Yuuri?” Victor whispered, his tone like a lover. 

“Well,” Yuuri panted in return, only sparing his coach a brief, sultry glance, “I was hoping to make everyone watching feel good.”

His score was announced and Victor’s jaw dropped. He threw his arms around Yuuri, sweat and all, and pressed his face into Yuuri’s hair to whisper: 

“Of course we’d feel good watching a performance like that,” Victor said, the rumble in his throat the most luxurious of growls. “You’re the very best student, Yuuri.”

Yuuri took a breath of Victor’s scent, smelled the intoxicating mixture of both their pheromones all around him.

This was how it was supposed to be. Victor and Yuuri. The time of innocence was over. Now, finally, they’d be able to enjoy each other’s eros.

— 

Yuuri stood next to Victor, watching Chris perform. From the moment the music started Yuuri felt a blush creep over his cheeks. _This_ was Chris’ eros. And…. Wow. 

Victor came up behind Yuuri, holding him around the chest as he followed Chris’ motion over the ice. Yuuri savored Victor’s grip, Victor’s embrace, and it calmed the spike of insecurity caused by Chris’ tantalizing display. 

That’s what Victor was used to, during his rut: _that_ level of eros, _that_ overwhelming sensuality. 

Yuuri swallowed. 

Could he really live up to Chris?

“Chris is a slow starter,” Victor murmured near Yuuri’s ear, almost like he was giving Yuuri instructions. Why was Victor telling him this?! “So he doesn’t peak at the start of his season. He times it for the end.” Victor gave a forced chuckle: “But he’s really going all out today, isn’t he Yuuri? You must have inspired him.”

At the end of it, Yuuri sank into Victor’s embrace: “I guess Chris is the most erotic today, isn’t he?” 

Victor blew out a breath across Yuuri’s neck. “You’ll more than match him.” 

It still came as a complete shock when Victor was right: when Chris’ score was announced and Katsuki Yuuri topped the scoreboard. 

— 

The high never wore off. It lasted through dinner with all his friends. It lasted into the night when his family called. It lasted long after Yuuri should have been asleep, and he showed up to the rink the next morning wrecked with exhaustion. 

Victor took him back to the hotel, laid him in bed and covered him in blankets and as if that wasn’t enough, promptly cuddled into him, too and fell asleep. It was strange, though - like a goodbye. 

Yuuri laid there, trembling beneath his alpha. He widened his legs ever so slightly, just enough for Victor’s body to fall into place between them. His imagination went wild, contemplating the sensation of Victor’s cock inside him. Wondering what it would be like when Victor wasn’t just asleep between his legs but instead pounding viciously, burning on the volatile fuel of his pheromones. 

He wrapped his arms over Victor’s shoulders. 

He could do this. He had to do this. He wanted to prove to everyone — no, he wanted to prove to _himself_ — that he was worth Victor’s time. His attention. … His bed. 

— 

Of course he couldn’t sleep like that. 

He couldn’t sleep and he’d psyched himself up and then they’d gone to the rink and nothing was right and everything was falling apart and he flubbed his jump in practice and he couldn’t remember how to breathe without it feeling like his ribs were caving in; he couldn’t open his water bottle he couldn’t watch the TV he couldn’t stop his leg from shaking like it was _possessed_. 

How had he ever thought he was good enough for Victor?! Those voices haunted him: _break up with him already_ , _you know it isn’t going to last_ , _come back to the ice_. They weren’t even _together_ and Yuuri was terrified of Victor leaving him. 

Victor grabbed Yuuri’s shoulder, dragging him away. Down to the garage. 

Yuuri looked around in surprise, wondering what Victor was thinking. He heard the thunder of applause above. Phichit must have — oh god.

Even his best friend, three years younger, was outperforming Yuuri. Of course it didn’t take much to outperform Yuuri. Chris outperformed Yuuri on the ice, in bed. Phichit was a better student, learned faster. If Celestino was capable of helping Phichit unlock that kind of skill, it must have been Yuuri who was flawed. 

Had Victor realized Yuuri was flawed yet? That all Yuuri was going to do was drag down Victor’s reputation? 

Victor’s hands clapped over Yuuri’s ears, muting the sound. Yuuri stood there, eyes downcast, lingering in his alpha’s shadow. He glanced up at his coach, finally, and gently removed Victor’s hands. 

“It’s time… I have to —” Yuuri swallowed and started walking away, back towards the stairwell.

“Yuuri,” Victor called. 

Yuuri looked back at his coach, his soon-to-be-alpha. 

“If you mess up and miss the podium, I’ll take responsibility and resign as your coach.”

Yuuri stared, and then his vision wobbled as tears broached his lids and poured down his cheeks. 

“How could you say something like that?!” Yuuri cried out. “Like some sort of test?!”

Victor looked shocked, his eyes tiny dots in a sea of white. “I didn’t mean it —” Victor started to backtrack. 

“I can handle my own failures, but now everything reflects back on you, too! I want to be worthy of you! I’m terrified that if I lose you might think better of being with me, or you won’t want to rut with me and —”

“Of course I do,” Victor whispered. 

“I KNOW!” Yuuri barked. 

There was another long stretch of silence. Victor’s words wavered: “I don’t know what to — I thought Chris —”

“I don’t care about Chris!” Yuuri sobbed. “I just want you to believe in me when I can’t believe in myself!” Yuuri’s hands knotted at his sides, his voice strained and cracked. “You don’t even have to say anything!” 

He felt Victor’s eyes on him and sobbed:

“Just stay close to me!” 

— 

It was different after that. 

Yuuri walked in silence next to Victor, back to the ice, tears brushed away and chest strangely light. 

Victor was frowning, deep in thought. Before Yuuri began he dropped his tissue, and when Victor leaned over to grab it Yuuri brushed his hand on the nape of of Victor’s nape. 

_It’ll be okay, Coach_ , Yuuri promised. 

On the ice everything was calm again. Yuuri found himself smiling as his routine started, remembering those little dot eyes and Victor’s shocked expression in his head. 

As if Victor didn’t know how much Yuuri cared about him. 

Almost as if Victor didn’t think Yuuri cared at all. 

Now he knew, didn’t he? 

_Haven’t you seen it in my skating, Coach_? Yuuri wondered as he landed his first quad. _I told you it was all for you. I told you everything was for you._

Yuuri felt like he was swirling in his own little world, the ice moving beneath him of its own accord. 

_I thought you had so much experience_ , Yuuri mused, but not in things like this, huh? You’re not used to love like mine. And he landed his quadruple salchow. 

Oh. He hadn’t thought he’d be able to do that. 

He touched down on his axel - better than he’d expected, and then had an idea. 

_I’ve been quite a surprise for you, haven’t I, Coach? What would you think if I did your signature move at the end?_

Over-rotation, still good given how little he’d slept. If he was able to do this — he’d be able to do so much more in proper form. 

_I’m going to get stronger, Coach. I’m going to get stronger and surpass your wildest dreams_.

He should have been more tired. Final jump. Final jump. He dug his pick into the ice and leapt. 

His leg didn’t catch him as he landed and he fell, but he’d almost - he’d gotten the rotations, he felt it. What would Victor think now? 

_Coach. Victor. Did you watch me?_

As the final notes of the piano faded Yuuri let his fingers fall delicately towards his coach. Victor had his hands over his face - was he upset? Crying? Angry?

Yuuri almost forgot to acknowledge the audience, and after two barely legible presentations he saw Victor running to the gate outside the kiss and cry and gave chase. 

“Victor!” Yuuri cried out, arms opened. “I did it! I did great, right?”

He saw Victor’s hopeless smile, the softest kind, reserved only for him and never for the cameras, and then Victor was leaping for him. 

Yuuri didn’t realize what was happening until Victor’s mouth was against his, Victor’s lips pressing, praying, unbelievable even in that one short moment before Yuuri’s back hit the ice. 

Yuuri flushed. 

“That was the only thing I could think of,” Victor said as he lifted his weight off of Yuuri, gazing down with a love so unmistakable it ached, “to surprise you more than you’ve surprised me.”


	15. Victor: Fever

Victor sat next to Yuuri on the plane back to Fukuoka, watching him sleep. Victor was equally exhausted but utterly incapable of resting. Far too much had happened in the last 24 hours- everything Yuuri had said, and done? Victor had been tumbling Yuuri’s words around in his head, his miraculous performance. 

He’d thought maybe they’d talk about it, once they got on the plane, but Victor was always late getting to airports and before they’d even took off all of Yuuri’s sleep deprivation had caught up with him and he’d promptly passed out. 

Adorable, yes, but not doing any favors to Victor’s buzzing, madly-in-love self. 

Victor took out his phone and connected to the flight wifi.

 _Yuuri said he wanted to rut with me_ , Victor texted Chris. _Is there like… knot lube to help with taking it?_

_maybe he just meant like you do with yuri_  
_like you just jerk him off_  
_did yuri ever tell him?_

_I don’t think so._  
_I didn’t._

_well… maybe he just wants you to be there during it_

_I don’t want to_  
_like_  
_rough him up though_

_~when your lover is rough but totally smitten~_

_NO_  
_NO CHRIS_  
_It’ll get stuck in my head_

_~get some smitten mittens and love love love~_

_Nooooooooo_. The insidious jingle slithered into the grooves of his brain. God dammit Chris. That was low, even for him. 

_smittens: love mittens for your loving kitten_ , added Chris, helpfully. 

_I hate you._

_you love me_

_:*_ It was much easier to love Chris now that Yuuri had picked Victor for his rut. 

_What lube do YOU use_

_its called My Ass :* want a bottle?_

_Right. Ugh. Chris. This is MY CHANCE. My chance to BE THERE._

_you’ve got over a month_  
_try a little every day_  
_or you know just ask if he wants you to take his knot_  
_maybe he’d rather just mark you_

_He doesn’t mark._  
_I mean_  
_There aren’t any scent holders in his room_  
_… I did roll in his laundry once_

_oh my god victor_

_LOOK HE SMELLS —_ but before Victor could send it he glanced to the side, to his student, his Yuuri Katsuki. He leaned in, nuzzling his head against Yuuri’s shoulder, brushing the tip of his nose against Yuuri’s neck. 

Even in his sleep, Yuuri’s lip twitched. A whimper, or a growl. 

_He smells like heaven_

_you’re just pre-rut_  
_you’d think anything with an ass smells like heaven_

_Clearly not you_

_:*_

It felt good to talk to Chris like this again. Like normal. Not that stilted, awkward exchange at the beginning of the qualifier when Chris grabbed Yuuri’s ass and Victor wanted to tear his arm off. Victor glanced over at Yuuri again. He allowed himself a private smile, tucking the flimsy coach-class fleece blanket up to his neck. 

Yuuri was his student, and… maybe… his alpha? 

Victor bared his teeth just at the thought. But he’d do this. 

He could do this. 

For his future husband, Yuuri Katsuki? 

Victor Nikiforov would do anything. 

— 

They practiced Yuuri’s quad flip. 

The next two days felt almost normal, only with more smiles, sultrier looks, more agonizing glimpses of Yuuri’s neck.

It was hardest after Yuuri practiced, when he came off the ice drenched in sweat and pheromones and panting and Victor just wanted to scrub his body over Yuuri like a windshield wiper and wallow in his smell. 

“Tomorrow’s the day, coach,” Yuuri said, skating up until the toes of his skates were between Victor’s. 

Victor had nearly forgotten his rut in preparation for Yuuri’s. 

His practice with the dildo had not gone well. 

“Mmm,” Victor said. “Will you be alright?” He’d given Yuuri plenty to practice. More than enough to keep him occupied for the two or three days Victor would be gone. 

“I’m sure I’ll survive,” Yuuri teased. He put his hands on Victor’s hips, an electric shock to the groin - so powerful it hurt. Victor blamed his hormones. He was always so _sensitive_ when he was pre-rut. Then Yuuri did that thing, that thing where his chin lifted parallel to the ground and it showed off Yuuri’s bare, sweaty, scent-pumping skin. 

“If you keep teasing me like that,” Victor warned. “I might snap.” 

He followed the little blip of Yuuri’s tongue as it peeked behind his lip. “Maybe that’s what I want,” Yuuri whispered, and Victor swore he heard Yuuri purr. 

God. Yuuri Katsuki, Victor Nikiforov’s future husband, was _kinky_. Alpha on alpha throating? Dangerous. Risky. 

And apparently, for Yuuri, desirable. 

Victor let out a breath of disbelief and engulfed Yuuri in his arms. 

“If this is practice for your short program, no one will get in the way of your gold,” Victor growled into Yuuri’s ear. 

— 

That night, Victor sat with Yuuri. No win, no katsudon. But the noodles were delicious regardless.

“What time do you want to leave?” Yuuri asked. 

“Probably tomorrow morning,” Victor said. “I usually don’t go until the fever starts.”

“Okay,” Yuuri smiled. 

Victor chuckled. “Why? Trying to plan your practice?” 

Yuuri blushed and glanced around, but his family was nowhere to be seen. He lowered his voice: “Don’t you think I should be saving my strength?” 

“I think you should be doing whatever you can to impress me by the time I’m done,” Victor smirked. 

Yuuri’s eyes ballooned in surprise, only to narrow with his usual determination. 

“I promise I’ll be even better than Chris.”

Victor chuckled. “Chris is lovely, but it’s Yurio you should be trying to beat.” 

Yuuri’s face fell. “What?”

Victor shrugged. “I was surprised by his performance. He has an undeniable allure.”

Yuuri shook his head, like trying to clear a fog of confusion. A moment passed of Yuuri looking down his bowl, then up again. 

“So… you… like alpha on alpha?” 

Victor had no idea what had triggered the question. He tried not choke on his noodle. “Well I… I’m certainly not _opposed_ to it. That should be obvious by now, right?” 

Yuuri blushed brighter, staring at his bowl. “I guess I didn’t know…” Yuuri shook his head. “It doesn’t matter, does it? I’ll be better than both of them. Than anyone, Victor.”

Victor grinned. There was nothing he loved more than Yuuri’s determination. 

“I know.”

— 

The next morning Victor woke up sweating. He’d spent last night peeing into all of the scent holders, dabbing his dick on the door and windowsills, opening the windows when he realized just how much he’d overdone it, and then trying to shove a dildo up his ass. There were… a lot of things he did pre-rut that weren’t the smartest or best things to do in a situation. Any situation really. But waking up surrounded by his own scent, owning the territory all around him - _that_ was worth it. 

The back of his hand on his forehead confirmed his fever, if the sweat didn’t. It was earlier than Victor anticipated - still dark outside. 4am? The trains wouldn’t even be running yet. 

Victor grabbed his overnight bag, dressed in comfortable sweats, and pattered silently out of his room. The fact that he didn’t detour to mark all over Yuuri’s door was a miracle.

“Shhh, Makka,” Victor whispered as the dog whined for Victor’s return. “I’ll be back in a few days.”

The cool air outside cleared some of Victor’s head. He could walk to the station and hope there weren’t any omechko there for him to terrify until the first trains started, or he could wander into the city center to try to find a taxi. The nearest parlor was too far for comfort; Victor hadn’t planned on getting feverish so early. 

His nose was hyper-sensitive, catching all the wisps and trails of scent. A betnik with too-heavy cologne. An alpha woman on a late night jog. Someone with baker-fresh buns stuffed with red bean curd. 

Not that he cared about any of those. 

He couldn’t mate with bean curd.

He realized several minutes later that he was two block from where he wanted to be. He’d spent the last few minutes mindlessly tracking the scent of an omechko off course. 

He was in worse shape than he thought. 

Worst case, he could call the police. Say that he couldn’t make it to a parlor and have them come pick him up before he hurt himself - or someone else. 

Victor put himself back on track, towards the train station. 

The train station. 

Not that smell. 

Victor took off his scarf, unbuttoned his jacket. He was too hot. It was _so hot_.

Maybe he’d left a window open in his room. Had he done that? Last night? After he’d marked his room so heavily? Maybe he’d mistaken the early onset fever for the heat of his exertion. Perhaps he’d been feverish for hours now and the crisp, incoming fall air had kept him cool.

Victor found himself outside an apartment complex. How’d he gotten there? It smelled like omechko. 

No. No no no no. 

He needed to _focus_. He needed to get to the _train station_. 

This alley smelled like omechko too. 

Oh. 

Victor took out his dick and peed on the discarded jacket. His now.

He needed… he needed. 

Ah… omechko. Victor growled beneath his breath, lifting his chest and stretching his neck tall, pulling back his shoulders. Big. Powerful. The omechko was _here_ , overpowering. In the alley with him. There: a flicker of light. Coming towards him. 

That’s right. 

The scent was so strong; it was _so strong_ and Victor couldn’t hear, couldn’t see, couldn’t count to two. All it took was a flash of skin and Victor —


	16. Yuuri: Mine Now

Yuuri Katsuki woke up to the barely audible sound of a door sliding shut. If he’d been a beta, it never would have registered, but something about the glide of wood and bearings at this time of night sent his senses off. 

He tried to go back to sleep, only to hear the scratch of dog paws on his door. 

“Careful!” Yuuri murmured as he got up, opening it. “You’ll scratch the pape— Makkachin?” 

The dog whined and whimpered.

“Did Victor lock you out again?” Yuuri asked, pattering to Victor’s room. The door was already open. Yuuri’s ass clenched at Victor’s scent, while another part of him recoiled at the noxious over-marking. 

“Victor?” Yuuri called quietly. 

But Victor was gone. 

Yuuri felt his heart drop. Had Victor changed his mind? Victor’s travel bag had disappeared, too. Phone. Charger. He’d gone to have his rut, and he hadn’t taken Yuuri with him. 

For the first time, Yuuri was angry. 

“Fine,” Yuuri said, holding back tears. He returned to his room, sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. What had he done wrong? What had changed? Makkachin whimpered and pawed at Yuuri, bracing on Yuuri’s legs so he could butt his head against Yuuri’s chin. 

That was when Yuuri smelled it. Victor must have pet Makkachin before he left - maybe brushed his wrist on Makkachin’s head or cheek. The scent was strong enough to make Yuuri light-headed. Victor hadn’t left to have his rut: he was already _in_ rut. 

Yuuri swallowed his bitterness that Victor hadn’t come to him. They were supposed to go through this _together_! But if Victor had been so needy, so early, he might not even have known what he was doing.

Makkachin whined again, concerned for his master. 

“Dammit.”

Dammit, Victor! 

Yuuri cursed as he stubbed his toe in the dark pre-dawn. He was trying to get dressed, throwing on a coat, rushing out of the onsen. Off-cycle or not, his nose was still feral. It felt silly, taking a giant, open-mouthed breath. He’d never tracked anyone before - never had a reason to. Now, he let the smells of the area invade his senses, seeking out Victor’s familiar scent.

There. He’d recognize it anywhere.

He started to jog. 

Victor must have been on the way to the train station - but why? What could Victor possibly need that would have taken him away from his omechko? And if he was already so far in his rut, why go _there_ and not to _Yuuri’s bedroom_. They could have dealt with his family. His mother even could have cooked for them! Would it have haunted Yuuri for the rest of his life? Yes, probably, but it was better than — 

Victor’s path changed. No longer towards the train station and instead off through a small park. Yuuri followed, thanking his stamina. He found Victor’s discarded scarf two blocks away, then Victor’s overnight bag several zig-zagging streets past that. There was no rhyme or reason to Victor’s trajectory any more. He didn’t move like he had a goal anymore. The path was chaotic, one direction and then the next. 

When Yuuri heard garbage bins toppling in an alley, he assumed it was a pair of feral cats or — 

— or his coach, Victor Nikiforov. 

“Victor?” Yuuri called into the narrow stretch of darkness. Ugh. That smell. Yes, it was definitely Victor. 

Yuuri heard a growl and froze in place, his ass clenching again, dampening. 

“Are you okay?” Yuuri whispered, but there was only that low, thunderous rumble in response. Yuuri gulped. “Okay…. okay… easy….” 

He glanced around the alley. It was only a few feet wide, just enough to fit several trash bins. Yuuri flushed as he imagined the headline article:

“Katsuki Yuuri and Coach Caught in a Knot!” 

Yuuri wrapped Victor’s scarf around his neck, cloaking himself in Victor’s smell as he moved deeper into the alley. He offered a soothing hum to Victor: who was holding stock still and growling, puffing himself up, trying to look taller and bigger and more worthy of Yuuri’s ass and attention. 

It would have been endearing, if it weren’t 5am in a trash-filled alley.

Yuuri moved around Victor, past the last of the bins, to the dead end of the alley behind a tree that had somehow grown up between the two buildings. 

Oh, god, was he really going to do this? Was he really going to — 

Victor’s growl rose in volume. 

Yuuri’s pajama bottoms were easy to push down. Yuuri gave a shudder as the frigid air blew between his legs. 

“Victor,” Yuuri called. “Victor, come here.” He reached behind him, under his coat, and spread his cheeks. His fingers dipped until they were wet, covered in the thick scent of his availability. He waved them in the air, and Victor took several snarling steps towards him, still peacocking and showing off his size.

Yuuri slowly, slowly twisted to face the wall, then lifted the back of his coat up, exposing his bare ass. 

The result was instant. 

— 

If someone had asked Yuuri what he thought his first time with Victor would be like, he would have talked about a cozy hotel, glasses of champagne, an hour of touching and kissing and getting his ass licked before Victor grabbed his waist and fucked him like a dog.

OK, Yuuri would never have actually _talked_ about it to anyone, but that inner personal fantasy was… very, very different than the reality. 

He wasn’t prepared for how quickly Victor would move, or how strong his arms would be. The bulk of Victor’s scarf protected Yuuri’s neck, but he still felt the pressure of the bite through all those layers of cloth. Yuuri groaned, arching into the touch. 

“That’s it,” Yuuri whispered. “Come on, coach. Come on.”

Then Victor’s cock found Yuuri’s ass.

He howled. 

— 

Victor’s scent worked like magic to slick up Yuuri’s asshole. Even that first thrust was easier than it should have been, out in an alley like animals. Yuuri braced himself against the wall, but the size and force of Victor’s cock still knocked the wind out of him. He gasped for breath, pushing back onto Victor, fighting down the other side of his instincts that were swirling with bloodlust. 

“That’s it,” Yuuri repeated, a breathless whisper. “Let it out. Get your knot in me. Tie with me.”

God, he was so wet. It was almost disgusting, the sounds coming from that place where Victor was ramming into him. Wet, sluicing noises, the suction of Yuuri’s ass. 

“Victor,” Yuuri whimpered. He looked over his shoulder, saw Victor with his mouth still clamped, his eyes mostly lidded, lost to the raw animal need. Now wasn’t the time for sentiment, but Yuuri couldn’t help the warmth blossoming in his chest. He had cold goo leaking down his thighs, gloves against the hard wall of some apartment building, and had to stand on his toes to put his ass at a manageable height for Victor’s cock. Every time a growl bubbled up, Victor would snap at him and return it, and it was only the scarf that prevented Yuuri’s neck from being a wreck of little nip marks. 

Still. Yuuri felt incredible. Victor was mating him. Victor had his cock in Yuuri’s ass, was slamming into him, was trying to tie with him.

Victor’s knot was almost at the size where it couldn’t make it through Yuuri’s asshole anymore. It got stuck on the outside and Victor snarled. He _pushed_ and Yuuri choked. 

“Come on,” he gasped, trying to stay quiet. He pushed right back, even though the pressure was painful, even though he swore Victor’s knot would split him in half. “Come on!” 

Even without the intoxicating urges of his instincts, Yuuri Katsuki wanted nothing more in that instant than his coach’s cock inside his ass.

He couldn’t help his shriek when it finally popped inside. 

Only the cool air allowed Yuuri to feel the gushing heat that followed. Victor went still, his growl closer to a pup’s whimper of satisfaction. He’d gotten his knot inside. They were tied. Victor was coming. 

Victor was coming in Yuuri. 

Yuuri’s legs were starting to hurt from keeping himself on his tip toes, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. He reached a hand back, tried to find Victor’s and squeeze it. 

“Victor?” Yuuri whispered. “Are you okay?”

Yuuri listened for a response and furrowed his brow when he heard… humming?

“ _when your lover is rough but totally smitten…_ ”

Yuuri croaked out a laugh at the sheer inanity of it all. Here they were, knotted in an alley, and Victor was humming jingles for mating mittens? 

“Can’t be… that bad I guess…” Yuuri panted. 

“Yuuri,” Victor finally managed. He sounded confused - trapped in the haze of his rut. “…what?” 

“It’s OK, coachi,” Yuuri reassured him. He wanted nothing more in the world than to grind out his own orgasms on Victor’s knot — but he was quite certain he’d already splattered come against the building wall and wasn’t sure he felt comfortable continuing to debase himself in an alleyway. 

“How’d you…?” Victor murmured. Yuuri hadn’t, admittedly, ever helped out an alpha before. He wasn’t used to the sex-drunk slurring and disorientation. 

“I followed your smell,” Yuuri said.

“Knot…” 

“I got it; it’s okay,” Yuuri reassured.

He wasn’t expecting Victor’s response to be pouting and whining: “everyone c’n take ‘em but me.”

“I’m supposed to take your knot,” Yuuri murmured. “I’m yours. I’m yours —“

Victor gasped, like he’d suddenly woken up. “Yuuri - did I hurt you?”

Yuuri looked over his shoulder, saw Victor’s wide, worried eyes. He shook his head, smile faint but glowing. 

“Why are we here?” Victor blinked. 

“I tracked you here. Why did you leave without me? I thought we were going to a hotel?”

“Hotel?”

“For your rut,” Yuuri said. “So we didn’t have to worry about my family, or any of the guests.”

Victor stared at him, looking so, so confused. Maybe he was still lustblind? 

“What lube,” Victor asked. 

“Huh?”

“What lube,” Victor repeated. “Did you use. To take my knot.” 

Yuuri blushed bright red. 

“Why would I need any?”

A gust of wind rushed down the alleyway, making both of them wince as it froze their balls and iced the gunk of their mating: matting Victor’s pubes, dripping down Yuuri’s thighs. 

“Fuck. Yuuri,” Victor said, finally, “ _What are you?_ ”


	17. Victor: Answers

It was incredibly rude, asking someone so directly about their feral identity. Most ferals didn’t need to ask each other - they had noses - and if a betnik came up and demanded to know? It was terribly invasive.

Still. Even Victor had his limits, and nearly a year after first falling for future husband Yuuri Katsuki, he had finally reached them.

Being in the middle of his rut probably didn’t help, either.

“What _are_ you?” he begged. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten into this situation. He was in an alley, it was just starting to lighten with dawn, and his cock was currently pumping Yuuri Katsuki full of seed. 

“Well… I — I don’t know the word in English,” Yuuri admitted. “But … both? I - I have a knot, and I can tie, but I can also…” Yuuri cleared his throat, ground back against Victor - presumably to illustrate that he was locked quite comfortably onto Victor’s cock. The sensations made Victor’s hormones surge. He didn’t hear the next several words Yuuri said. “…ctor said I could get pregnant, too. Probably. I’m on birth control, just in case, and…” Yuuri blinked several times. “I — I thought you knew? I told you I wanted to rut with you.” 

Victor was losing his mind. 

“I THOUGHT YOU WANTED ME TO TAKE YOUR KNOT,” Victor wailed. 

“VICTOR, be QUIET! — and WHAT?” 

“YOU ASKED ME ABOUT ALPHA ON ALPHA!” 

“You said I needed to compete with Yuri! I didn’t know you’d mated with him!” 

“I MEANT ON THE ICE!” 

“ _VICTOR!_ ”

Victor felt a tug on his knot. Yuuri Katsuki, his future husband, was lifting up a leg so he could turn and face Victor, a painful and awkward process all things considered. 

Victor stared at him through the haze of his rut, growling. 

“Victor,” Yuuri repeated, softer. He fingered the scarf at his neck. “I wanted to be with you for _your_ rut. I wanted you to bite my neck. I wanted to feel your knot.” 

Victor’s eyes locked onto Yuuri’s fingers as they pulled on the scarf, tugging the knit material, revealing his bare skin. 

“Yuuri,” Victor rasped. He could feel his lucidity rapidly fading away. Victor prided himself on his control, and yet, now, with Yuuri — 

“I want this,” Yuuri repeated. “I want you.” 

Victor tried to blink away another surge of hormones and adrenaline and that breathless adoration he’d felt almost a year ago. Yuuri’s hand brushed the back of his neck, making him bare his teeth. Then Yuuri was pulling Victor close, guiding Victor’s mouth to his neck. 

“I told you,” Yuuri whispered, “everything was for you.”

Victor swallowed.

“Take it.” 

— 

The mark Victor left was deep purple and swollen by the time he lifted his teeth off Yuuri’s throat. He couldn’t remember most of the bite: his knot had softened, his cock had slipped out, and then he was dying to be inside again. Yuuri must have flipped back around, because he was up against the wall again, panting white clouds into the dawn. Once more, they were tightly tied, and Victor got a brief glimpse of sanity.

“Yuuri,” Victor whimpered. 

“Yes,” Yuuri groaned. “Yes.”

“Yuuri,” because that was all he could think about. “I wanted you… so badly… my Yuuri…” 

“Yours,” Yuuri repeated. “I’m yours. I’m here.” 

Victor snuffed his nose into Yuuri’s hair, breathing in his smell. “Gotta tell Chris.”

“Please don’t,” Yuuri gasped. 

“But I was right.” 

“Right?”

“Omechko. Knew you were omechko. He said I was wrong. Said he’d had your knot. Said you were alpha.” 

“Well… he wasn’t _wrong_ ,” Yuuri blushed. 

Victor growled, and was surprised when Yuuri growled back. Victor’s teeth found Yuuri’s throat again.

“Sorry,” Yuuri said. “I can’t — ah... it’s been coming back.”

“Your alpha side?” Victor’s lips nibbled against Yuuri’s mark. 

“Yeah - I’ve never - it’s always been omegas before -” Yuuri said. “If they needed - ah - help.”

“Like Chris,” Victor said. Chris had gotten to Yuuri first. 

“Yeah.”

Victor hid his face in Yuuri’s neck, holding Yuuri’s waist, trying to ignore the fact that they were freezing in an alleyway. 

“Wanna bed,” Victor mumbled. 

“I — I’ll work on that.”

— 

Next time - many times? - later, Yuuri pulled away from Victor when his cock started to soften. With a pained gasp, Victor’s knot popped free. Yuuri tugged up his pants despite Victor’s exhausted growl and then adjusted Victor’s clothes. 

“Come on,” Yuuri said, taking Victor’s hand, pulling, flashing his neck. 

Victor followed. What else could he do when Yuuri smelled so nice and Victor wanted him so badly? A good omechko would stay in place and present himself, but Yuuri had always been so coy, hadn’t he? Victor gave a pitiful, mournful, needful mrowl at Yuuri’s back. He followed Yuuri to a car, seats covered in towels, and barely parsed Yuuri’s blushing whisper:

“Please never mention this to anyone.”

Victor bit Yuuri’s neck. 

“Ouch! Soon!” Yuuri growled. 

Victor humped at the air, humped at Yuuri, covered him and laid over him and ground through his clothes. Why the hell was he wearing clothes?! He clawed at his pants, at his coat, until he felt something tight around his cock and thrust. 

“…. Is he…. Okay?” 

“We just need to get to the hotel,” Yuuri pressed, and then Victor was bucking his cock into Yuuri’s hand, and everything was scents and noise.

— 

The next time Victor was lucid, he was in a stairwell, chasing Yuuri up flight after flight and into a hallway, crying out for him.

“Come back!” Victor growled. 

“Come on!” Yuuri called in return. Yuuri was at a door, fumbling with a keycard and rattling the handle trying to get inside. Victor wanted him. Needed him. But just as he was about to grab Yuuri, the door opened and Yuuri all but fell inside. 

Victor closed the door, but not before pissing on the rim of it.

“Victor NO!” Yuuri called, but Victor just growled and sealed his omechko inside with him. 

Yuuri had wound up on the floor, clothes and everything in complete disarray. Victor saw so much skin he thought he could drown in it, but when he went to cover Yuuri’s body he got a warning growl instead. 

“No, Victor,” Yuuri said, and the sharpness of the command broke through the incoming haze long enough for Victor to take pause. He felt Yuuri’s hand in his hair, pulling his face down, between Yuuri’s legs. “You do it properly now.”

Victor took a deep snuff of Yuuri’s ass, then started to lick up the combined mess they’d made. He could take care of his omechko! Especially his Yuuri. He dragged his tongue over Yuuri’s winking asshole again and again and again, unable to understand any of the increasingly desperate things Yuuri was muttering into the carpet. Victor was drunk and high off the taste of his mate. 

Yuuri Katsuki. Future husband. His.

— 

Victor found himself in a bed, Yuuri tied to him, underneath him. 

“Yuuri,” Victor smiled. 

Yuuri was trying to take off the rest of Victor’s clothes. He still had a shoe on, somehow, his sweatpants and briefs bunched above it like some strange leg warmer. Yuuri’s clothes were long gone. His bare body lay sprawled underneath Victor’s, impaled by Victor’s, and it made Victor so. damn. proud.

“Hey coach,” Yuuri grinned up at Victor, cheeks so adorably flush, hair so utterly mussed. 

Victor nuzzled his darling omechko, nipped at Yuuri’s neck again and delighted in the way Yuuri gasped. 

“Does it feel good?” Yuuri asked, just like Victor had in the kiss and cry, and Victor’s eyes rolled back in his skull with a groan.

— 

Victor barked at the knock on the door. 

“Just leave it outside!” Yuuri was calling out, over Victor’s attempts to frighten away whoever dared disturb his time with his omechko. Victor’s arms made a cage around Yuuri, protecting him from this _intruder_.

“Victor, Victor, it’s OK,” Yuuri hushed, cuddling Victor and rubbing his back until he stopped barking. Victor still growled towards the door, but Yuuri was far more interesting. Victor settled over Yuuri’s body, exhausted and content to keep spewing his jizz into Yuuri’s womb.

“I need to go get the food, OK?” Yuuri said, pushing Victor’s softening knot. Victor humped it deeper on instinct, but he couldn’t sustain his erection forever and eventually his cock fell limp between his legs. He still attempted to pin Yuuri, but Yuuri kept hushing him and soothing him and finally managed to wriggle free. 

Victor took the opportunity to fill up the scent holders, drenching them. 

“Ugh, Victor,” Yuuri groaned, nose wrinkling. “So much.”

Victor hmphed, crossing his arms as he stood in the center of his makeshift domain. He pointed Yuuri back to the bed. 

“Don’t you want to eat first?” Yuuri asked, setting down the tray. It was all easy-to-eat, finger-friendly food that they could scarf down between sessions. Yuuri plucked two pork buns, holding one out to Victor as he ate his own. 

Victor just grabbed Yuuri by the waist, flipped him to face the dresser, and humped until Yuuri laughed and opened his legs. 

— 

It was dark again. 

When Victor wasn’t lustblind he was asleep, catching little half hour naps if he was lucky. Sometimes Yuuri didn’t even wake up, just left his body open for Victor when he needed.

Victor needed.

— 

The bed was soaked with seed and the juice of Yuuri’s ass, stiff in the places it had dried, sopping where it was still wet. 

Yuuri was whimpering, begging, and Victor was inside him, claiming him. 

The food was still good the next day, but anything would have tasted good licked or nipped from Yuuri’s fingers. 

In between, Victor ate Yuuri’s ass with increasing delicacy, trying to be sensitive as Yuuri’s body struggled to deal with the stimulation. 

And Yuuri’s alpha side… Yuuri’s alpha side was acting up, too, more growls, more nips. The two snarled and hissed, and Victor finally broke the skin on Yuuri’s neck, giving both of them pause. 

“I’m sorry,” Victor rasped when he realized. 

“I’m not.”


	18. Yuuri: Bearing Victor

Yuuri woke up warm and instinctively reached his toes out, trying to find a crack in the blankets to cool off. When he twisted, a soft, almost inaudible growl emanated close to his ear. He looked down to find himself snared in more than one way by his coach. 

They were tied, but Victor’s cock was soft, probably stuck in him more as a result of dried, crunchy fluid than the physical bulk of his knot. Victor’s arm rested around Yuuri’s waist, comfortably latched. The smell was so strong Yuuri’s nose felt numb, surrounded in every way by his alpha. 

He stirred again, managed to get a foot out from under the blankets. 

“Yuuri?” 

“Mm,” Yuuri acknowledged. He twisted carefully, wincing at the tug of solidified come on his pubes. It took a moment, and more than a few unintentionally plucked hairs, but he wound up with his shoulder blades against the mattress, torso torqued so he could see Victor. 

Victor’s eyes were bright, like maybe they’d both managed to sleep for a few solid hours, and he’d lost the engorged pupils and slack-jawed stare of his rut. Yuuri touched the back of his hand to Victor’s forehead, feeling only cool skin. The fever of Victor’s lust had broken. Yuuri felt that familiar elation, like at the end of a competition. It was always thrilling to end a cycle with someone.

Yuuri watched the emotions flit across Victor’s face as he sorted through everything that he could remember. It wound up with him turning red in embarrassment and hiding his face in Yuuri’s neck, groaning and then laughing. Yuuri laughed too, wrapping his arms around his idol, and coach, and alpha. He felt the last of Victor leave him, cock slipping free at last. 

“I need to get Nishigori a gift, don’t I,” Victor mumbled. 

Yuuri let go of Victor, flopping fully onto his back. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to look at Nishigori for a Very Long Time. 

“Oh… Yuuri…” Yuuri glanced over at Victor, at the somber tone of his voice. Victor was staring at his neck, shoulders. “What did I do to you…” 

Yuuri touched his neck. There were several places where he could feel the raised skin, the marks and the few wounds where Victor had actually drawn blood. Those all happened towards the end, when Yuuri’s omega hormones were fully sated and his alpha ones took over. 

“It’s okay,” Yuuri assured. He gave Victor his best confident smile. “I knew what I was getting into.”

“I could have just gone to a parlor…” Victor frowned. 

“Is that what you call that alley I found you in?” Yuuri sassed him. It was easier to tease than it was to remember how hurt and upset he’d been when he’d found Victor’s room empty. 

“But I wouldn’t have hurt you…” 

Yuuri sat up. “It was worth it to me.” 

Victor sat up too, but before he could respond his stomach let out an angry rumble. 

“Oh,” Yuuri said. “Come on. We should get breakfast, and shower, and… I should get back to practice.” He cocked his head. “Right coach?” 

Victor gazed at Yuuri, like there was so much more, but in the end he just smiled, nodded. “Hai.”

—

Yuuri walked into the onsen completely red-faced, despite the fact that he’d cleaned, and cleaned, and cleaned until he was certain not even a feral would be able to tell they’d just mated. 

“Welcome back,” Mari smirked, because clearly it didn’t take a nose to figure out what their simultaneous, two-day absence meant. 

Yuuri’s mom engulfed them both in hugs, then immediately sat them down to eat, all the while beaming in a way that made Yuuri want to die. 

“You must be hungry,” and she put plates of noodles - still no katsudon - in front of them. 

Victor, miraculously, enviably, put on his normal charming smile, as if he hadn’t just come out of a two-day rut that started with fucking his student in a garbage alley. Yuuri wished he could look half as composed, but he just blushed into his bowl and savored what it felt like to have been, for however short a time, his idol’s mate. 

He adjusted the scarf he’d kept around his neck, hiding away the marks. Later that evening - after practice, after getting his normal earful of Victor’s critique - he unwound it in his bedroom. Yuuri touched each purple indentation one by one, like a meditation, remembering. 

— 

They watched the qualifier that weekend, and the weekend after that. 

_see you at the gpf :*_ , Chris texted Yuuri when his place was secured. 

Yuuri opened their chat to respond, then nearly had a heart attack. There was an entire conversation Yuuri had never had. 

_CHRIS MY KNOT IS IN HIM_

_whoa there hi_   
_he actually managed it????_   
_last time we talked he couldn’t even get the shaft in all the way_   
_and i dont remember you being small_

_YOU KNOW HOW BIG I AM :*_

_youve been drinking havent you?_

_AT A TIME LIKE THIS?_

_yeah_   
_about that_   
_uhhhh_   
_how are you knotting him during his rut?_

_ITS MY RUT_

_shit, at the same time?_   
_dont kill each other_

_HES TAKING IT SO GOOD_

_wow_   
_uh._

_I WISH YOU COULD TRY THIS_

_well like i do have a dick you know_

_HES MINE NOW THOUGH BRB_

_ok… uh… enjoy?_

And that was the end of it. 

_VICTOR TOOK MY PHONE_ Yuuri typed.

_oooooooooooh that makes SO much more sense_

Yuuri felt his soul caving in. 

_well at least you know he had a good time_

_Please don’t tell anyone_

_you know i only tell these things to victor_   
_oh… you should know he loves to mark_

Yuuri sent a ghost-face emoji: _He peed on our hotel door_

_hahahaha of course he did_   
_every time he comes over he pees somewhere in my apartment_   
_like i won’t notice_

_He only did scent holders here, until his rut_

_he didn’t mark in you, did he?_

_What!?_

_hahaha yeah watch out_   
_when he gets really excited and he’s tied_   
_sometimes he just…. gets carried away_   
_its a mess_

_Thanks for the warning._

_np_   
_so you like helping omegas AND alphas huh? :*_   
_that doesn’t hurt?_

Yuuri chewed on his lip. He trusted Chris, didn’t he? I mean, he’d mated with Chris, and Victor had mated with Chris. Victor trusted him. Not to mention, Yuuri felt like he and Chris shared a history now, mutual exposure to the ridiculousness of a rutting Victor Nikiforov. 

He could trust Chris with his secret. He was impressed, actually, that Victor hadn’t already blabbed about it.

_Well…_ , Yuuri started, and as he explained his situation he was vaguely proud he didn’t just shut off his phone in embarrassment. 

_i think the word’s just intersex in english_ , Chris texted after.  
 _that’s really cool?_  
 _almost like a female omega_

_A little bit_ , Yuuri agreed. Female omegas were universal surrogates. They could create their own eggs, but also fertilize any egg that wasn’t their own. They were the rarest of all ferals, only a fraction of a percent of the population. 

Whatever Yuuri was, it was rarer. 

_that explains how often you cycle too_

_Yeah. Four a year. Pretty regular_   
_Oh… wasn’t your heat…?_

_it started the night victor’s stopped_

_I’m sorry._   
_I said one of us could help._

_you had your own shit to deal with._   
_it was fine :*_   
_i needed something quick and simple before France anyway_   
_next time, OK?_   
_after worlds_

Yuuri felt a sudden jolt in his stomach. Worlds felt so far away. Like another life entirely. Victor had only promised Yuuri the Grand Prix Final. After that… 

_I’ll do my best_.

—

Just a few days later, Yuuri packed his bags for Moscow. He paused in front of the mirror, tugging down the neck of his shirt. That first mark Victor had made, purple and blooming, was now a faint greenish color, and all the others were memory. 

“Yuuri.”

Victor stood in the doorway to Yuuri’s room, Makkachin at his side.

“Aren’t you always telling me we’re going to be late?” Victor teased. He came up behind Yuuri, arms encompassing Yuuri’s torso in a tight hug as he looked in the mirror. “It doesn’t still hurt, does it?” 

Yuuri trembled as Victor’s fingertips crossed the greenish skin.

“Only knowing it will go away.”


	19. Victor: Moscow Marks

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is slow sorry :<

Moscow wasn’t quite home, but the white noise of Russian, the constant attention of the media, the biting cold: it was good to be back in his country. Victor enthralled the press with his normal charm, capturing their attention until he was done with them and then tossing them onto Yuri. 

Not that Yuri was very pleased about it. He continued to disparage Victor, all the righteous anger of a fifteen year old wrapped up in a petite, leopard-print package. 

“Are you upset about your rut?” Victor asked, afterwards, out of ear shot of the cameras. Yuri was still fuming. His rut was scheduled to directly overlap with the GPF, and that meant having to acquire hormone blockers.

“I got the prescription, OK, fuck off!” Yuri shouldered him. 

“I’ll stay in Barcelona, after the finals,” Victor said. 

“I’ll fucking kill you, okay?! You know what they say about this shit! I don’t even want to take it but I can’t go on the ice in the middle of — of _that_!”

There had been too many stories of post-blocker alphas going on rage-filled rut rampages. 

“You’re not gonna kill me with a muzzle and mittens,” Victor assured, struggling not to hear the tinny jingle in his head. 

Yuri just crossed his arms and glared. 

“I’m sure you’ll be fine,” Victor said. “But if not.” 

“Fuck off,” Yuri repeated, and Victor shrugged. 

— 

He and Yuuri shared a room again, two twins, and slept separately. For how intimate they’d been during Victor’s rut, afterwards Yuuri was back to his normally chaste and shy self. Or maybe it was Victor, wanting to make sure he never hurt Yuuri like that again.

It was strange, that complete paradox of Yuuri Katsuki: at once this divine erotic presence, confident and seductive, and on the other hand chaste enough to be a virgin, utterly uninterested, devoted in a way completely removed from sexuality. 

Victor still wondered what happened to the man at the banquet. Their first and only kiss remained the one Victor had given Yuuri after his free skate. He gazed across the open space between their beds, at Yuuri’s back and the soft blue rim of light outlining his hair. 

“You should try to sleep, Yuuri,” Victor murmured. 

The blue light disappeared and Yuuri twisted to face Victor across the divide. 

“Are you nervous?” Victor asked.

“Always a little.”

They gazed at each other, barely visible in the dim light leaking in around the curtains.

“I believe in you,” Victor assured his student. “Try to sleep.” 

Yuuri bobbed his head, whispered “Hai”, and then turned away once more.

— 

At the rink, Victor knelt and checked Yuuri’s laces, tugging them into place and retying them while Yuuri leaned against the wall in his eros costume.

Victor snapped his head up with a gut-reaction growl when Yuuri touched the back of his neck. Yuuri didn’t growl back, didn’t react at all. Just stared into Victor’s eyes and brushed those same fingers on his throat. 

God.

It hit Victor like a truck and a few over-excited drips escaped his dick before he could stop them. If he hadn’t been wearing dark pants, the situation could have been shameful. Yuuri looked away, completely unconcerned, like he didn’t know he’d just annihilated Victor, body and soul.

— 

As Yuuri took the ice, the crowd cheered, but not for him. 

“Vic-tor! Vic-tor! Vic-tor!” 

It was as intoxicating as an omechko’s scent: the familiar pulse of the crowd, the way he could elicit a thunderous cheer with just a smile or flick of his wrist. Victor turned to wave for his fans, presenting like he always had for them. 

At least until Yuuri grabbed him by the base of his tie and yanked. 

“You may not have put your scent on me,” Yuuri whispered. “But I’m yours.”

Victor swallowed.

“And that makes you mine, not theirs. I’ll show all of Russia our love.”

He skated off after that, to the booming announcement of his name, and Victor barely caught the blush on Yuuri’s cheeks - Yuuri’s shy self butting in, most likely: telling him that he’d said too much, that it was embarrassing, more than he should have offered. 

Victor never wanted Yuuri to listen to that voice. 

Besides: the crowd wasn’t watching Victor anymore. Yuuri’s aggressive maneuver had worked perfectly. They waited with buzzing anticipation for the first notes of his short program. Their attention was Yuuri’s to lose.

The look Yuuri sent the judges eked another drip from Victor’s cock.

He’d just come out of his rut. He shouldn’t be wanting to mate so badly. And yet… he looked at his protege and _yearned_. 

“Yes! Yuuri!” Victor called as Yuuri landed his quad sal. Perfect. _Perfect_. 

Yuuri could do this. Yuuri could make it. 

He nailed his combination, flawless, perfectly executed. Another jump. His footwork. Yuuri was a sensuous demon, owning the ice, perfection manifest in a way Victor had never seen before. Victor wondered if his cycle would affect Yuuri’s eros, but he’d never imagined _this_ much of a reaction. 

Yuuri came off the ice panting and proud and — 

“Get out of my way.” 

Victor and Yuuri both stopped to stare at Yuri, looking the part of an angel in his agape costume but dragging pre-rut pheromones in waves behind him. Both Victor and Yuuri growled, but it wasn’t strong enough to overwhelm how impressed they were with their bitterly angry teenage rival. 

“You mated with that?” Yuuri whispered in disbelief on the way to the kiss-and-cry. 

“Well,” Victor cleared his throat. “Sort of.”

“How’d you take his knot?” Yuuri gaped in surprise. If Victor had a ruble for every time someone thought he should have a knot up his ass, himself included…

“I just hold it, squeeze my fingers behind the knot,” Victor said. “We’ve never actually—”

Victor cut off as the cameras came close again. He sat next to Yuuri, awaiting the score, wondering why it was so much more stressful as a coach than a skater. His arm came around Yuuri’s shoulders, almost on instinct.

Probably the same instinct that made Yuuri tilt his neck. 

When the score appeared, Victor gasped. Not only had Yuuri beaten his personal best - he was rapidly gaining ground on Victor’s world record.

It took Victor a moment to to identify the cocktail of emotions cutting off his air, and when he realized it - so obvious in hindsight - it was clear as day.

Victor loved him. 

Victor loved him and was drunk off him and found himself kneeling again to Yuuri: this time clasping Yuuri’s skate and bringing it to his lips. Yuuri scooted in his seat, watching with a blush as Victor kissed the leather toe of his boot. 

It was hard not to stare. Victor lingered beside his omechko. His alpha. His _obe_ \- both. He’d been trying to be so respectful, to stop pushing at Yuuri and suffocating him, but all he wanted was to drench Yuuri in his scent - to mark him properly, to let the whole world know, or at least the feral side of it - that Yuuri Katsuki was _his_. 

He could wait. 

The pair waved their congratulations to Yuri as he skated onto the ice, though Yuri looked none too pleased by their encouragement. His Grandpa was supposed to have come to watch, but wasn’t feeling well. Not that Yuri would ever tolerate their sympathy. 

Victor hovered near the edge of the ice, lost in his revelation and absently watching Yuri, then JJ. Beating JJ was going to be a challenge, especially with a quadruple loop in his arsenal. But Yuuri could do it. Could win against him. Yuuri could do anything he put his mind to, as long as people believed in him. As long as he believed in himself.

Victor should just mark him. Prove how much he believed in Yuuri, wanted to be with Yuuri. He should go to his student, pull him aside, kiss him properly, and then — 

Where was Yuuri, anyway? 

Victor found him just as he was getting off the phone and knew immediately from the look on Yuuri’s face that something was wrong. 

“Victor. Go back to Japan right now. I’ll face the free skate on my own.”


	20. Yuuri: Alone

The last thing Yuuri wanted was to skate without Victor. He felt it like a lead collar, dragging him into the floor, but he would never forgive himself if Victor wasn’t there for Makkachin the way Yuuri hadn’t been there for Vicchan. 

Before he left, Victor hugged Yuuri. Yuuri sank into the familiar comfort of Victor’s embrace while Victor whispered instructions Yuuri couldn’t hear over the pounding of his heart. 

Then Victor was gone, and Yuuri retreated to their shared hotel room alone. 

_Makkachin is sick._   
_Victor had to go back to Japan_

_right before your free skate?_   
_i’m sorry cheri, thats hard_   
_i hope makka’s ok_

_They just don’t know._   
_Victor didn’t want to leave, but I told him he had to._

_what about you?_

_… I miss him a lot_   
_I know it was just his rut, but…_

_cheri, it was never ‘just rut’ for him_

Yuuri felt a lump in his throat.

_not with you_

No matter how many times Yuuri swallowed, that lump didn’t go away.

_What do you mean?_

_:* you should ask him that, not me_

— 

Yakov was his coach for the day, but Yuuri kept to himself during practice, and after. It felt so strange, not having Victor’s critique and Victor’s encouraging smile. His shoulder itched where Victor usually touched him, and his side felt cool without Victor pressed against it. 

He barely noticed Yuri’s unbelievable performance, and then he was on the ice for his own. He bowed over in his start position, so if his tears fell they’d blend into the ice and not wreck his makeup.

Yesterday could have been his last time on the ice with Victor at his side. If he flubbed this, if he didn’t manage to place third or higher… 

He was too busy worrying to focus on his first jump. He went way too high, and the second jump of his combination wound up as a single. 

No! 

_Focus!_

Yuuri blew out a breath and launched into his next jump: sloppy, but passable. What would Victor say? Victor would tell him not think so much. To feel instead. 

Victor had made Yuuri feel so much. 

There was no way it could end here. Not here. Not in Rostelecom. Not without slicing his skates over the grand prix ice. 

And would it make such a difference, if Victor _were_ here? He’d be on the sidelines anyway. Yuuri could even picture him there, in his suit, finger on his lips, watching and cheering as Yuuri landed his triple axel. 

It wouldn’t make the jumps any less difficult, the footwork any less tiring. Yuri looked like he was about to die at the end of his performance. Yuuri was better than that, at least, wasn’t he? 

_I have that, at least_ , Yuuri had said when Victor pointed out his stamina. The one benefit, the one advantage Yuuri wasn’t afraid to own. 

He nailed his next jumps. 

This was his love. His and Victor’s love. And there was no way it would end on Victor’s home turf. 

— 

_i knew you would make it_

Yuuri glanced down at the message and closed his phone. He stood in the snow, looking out over the park. He’d almost lost today. Probably should have lost, for his performance. 

Maybe he was a fool for wasting Victor’s time this season, instead of giving him an unobstructed opportunity to continue his streak of medals. After the GPF… maybe after that he would let Victor return to the ice, retire regardless of whether or not he kept his promise of winning gold. 

If you love something, set it free. 

That was the phrase, wasn’t it?

Yuuri had to set Victor free. 

He’d tell him when he got back to Hasetsu. No, not with everything going on with Makkachin. He’d tell him in Barcelona. 

He’d — 

“OW!” Yuuri found himself on the ground, a _very_ hormonal Yuri Plisetsky standing over him. 

“What WAS that, huh?” Yuri asked. “You almost LOST, pig.”

Yuuri frowned. 

“When you lose,” Yuri said, pointing his finger. “You are going to lose to _me_ , in the ultimate competition!” 

Yuuri tried to force a smile. Yuri had the most completely backwards way of expression his fondness for someone. 

“I’m sorry,” Yuuri said. Why did he always find himself apologizing to this fifteen year old punk?

“Tsch. At least you had an excuse to be awful,” Yuri said. “Your coach was gone. I had everyone supporting me - even grandpa was there. I skated the best program of my career and _STILL_ wound up second to JJ.” Yuri prickled in his jacket. “If anyone gets to be upset tonight, it’s me.”

The best Yuuri could do from where he sat, snow seeping into his pants, was a sympathetic frown. 

“Don’t look at me like that, katsudon,” Yuri growled. “I don’t want your pity.” He paused, then tossed a rumpled paper bag at Yuuri’s lap. “Here. It’s your birthday soon, isn’t it?”

Yuuri swallowed down a moment of fascination that Yuri actually kept track of and remembered his birthday. He unfolded the top of the bag and blinked at the piroshki inside. 

“Piroshki?”

“Eat.” 

“Er… now? Right here?” 

“EAT!” Yuri insisted, another wave of pheromones washing off him. Yuuri was close enough to his own impending cycle to be defenseless against the command. He picked out one of the piroshki to munch on. 

“This is…. katsudon!?” Yuuri said in surprise, mouth full of the cutlet and rice and egg. 

“Yes!” Yuri grinned, and Yuuri had never seen him look so happy. “My grandpa made them himself. They’re delicious right?!”

Yuuri laughed: “Mmhm! Do you want one!?”

The two sat on the edge of the park and ate katsudon piroshki together, passing time until it Yuuri had to catch his flight back to Japan. 

It was strange, talking to Yuri like a friend again. Yuri asked about Mari and Yuuko and the triplets and made his typical negative comments against Victor. They both oozed pheromones at the mention of Victor’s name - two very different varieties of scents. Yuuri couldn’t help but flush. 

“I can smell your rut coming up,” Yuuri murmured. “Is it — is it before the final?”

Yuri paused mid-bite and narrowed his eyes at Yuuri. “Did Victor tell you?”

“What?” 

Narrower. “You know.”

Yuuri could feel the blood rushing to his face. 

“He did!” Yuri growled and slammed his hand down on the rail. “That _ass_ —”

“He was in rut!” Yuuri tried to cover for his absent coach. 

Yuri snorted, then took a snuff of Yuuri. “So you mated with him.” 

Yuuri shoved another bite of piroshki into his mouth. 

“… you don’t smell like him.”

Yuuri swallowed.

“Victor loves to make things smell like him,” Yuri said in suspicion. “I went to his house once. He peed on my sock.”

Yuuri winced.

“While I was wearing it.” Yuri brushed his fingers on the snow to wipe off the piroshki grease. “So why didn’t he mark you?” 

“I… I’m not sure,” Yuuri admitted. He’d asked himself the same thing a few too many times. He’d even dragged his fingers through the scent on Victor’s neck and brushed it on his throat, and Victor _still_ hadn’t gotten the message.

Yuri’s nose scrunched. “He should mark you. You’re about to cycle.” Yuri took another snuff of Yuuri. “I think. You smell weird, katsudon.”

“Yeah,” Yuuri blushed. “Sorry.” 

Dammit. He had to stop. 

“Whatever. Look. Don’t let your cycle make you weak. You better be at your best for finals,” Yuri said. “When I win, I want you know you tried as hard as you could, and it still wasn’t enough.”


	21. Victor: Together

Victor waited in the Fukuoka airport, Makkachin at his side, trying to breathe. 

He hadn’t felt like he could catch his breath since Yuuri’s free skate, since watching Yuuri come in fourth, since thinking it was over. 

It was almost luck that Yuuri made it to the finals, and it was terrifying to think everything they’d built together had nearly come crashing down. 

When Makkachin barked at the partition Victor turned to see Yuuri, the man he loved, the man he wanted more than anything. 

Not just now, but always.

They raced to meet each other, and Yuuri’s embrace felt more like home than Moscow ever had. Victor pressed his face into Yuuri’s hair, and Yuuri burrowed near his shoulder, both all but quivering with the emotion of their reunion.

“Yuuri,” Victor whispered. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what I can do from now on, as your coach.” No - he wanted to be _so much more_ than just Yuuri’s coach. 

“So have I,” Yuuri murmured. Then his hands straightened, pushing Victor back as his brow narrowed in determination. “Please. Victor. Be my coach until I retire!” 

That familiar emotion bubbled up in Victor’s throat, manifesting as a tender chuckle. He took Yuuri’s hand in his, delicately holding his wrist. He kissed Yuuri’s ring finger. 

“That’s almost like a marriage proposal,” Victor said, and instead of balking or choking or gasping in surprise, Yuuri just smiled through his blush and wrapped Victor in his arms again. 

How right it felt, how perfect, how completely beautiful. 

Victor dropped his lips to Yuuri’s throat, almost touching. 

“Yuuri,” he purred. “I wish you’d never retire.” 

— 

That night, Yuuri came to Victor’s bedroom, pillow and blanket in hand, and closed the door behind him. He blushed at Victor when his coach looked up, but crept to the bedside regardless. 

“… Do you remember, when you first arrived?” Yuuri said softly. “You asked if we could sleep together. So we could know more about each other.” 

“I remember,” Victor said, sitting up and putting his phone aside. He was nearly naked already, chest bare as the blanket fell off of it. 

“… I thought we could sleep together,” Yuuri whispered. “That and…”

He sat on the edge of the bed, and Victor took the blanket and pillow from him, setting them out, making a space for Yuuri in his bed. “And?” Victor prompted, laying his hand on Yuuri’s shoulder. 

“I like to be with people, close to my heat,” Yuuri whispered. He blushed, adjusted his glasses, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I’d love if you stayed with me,” Victor said. Yuuri was in a t-shirt and athletic shorts, somehow the most beautiful clothes in the world as far as Victor was concerned. Yuuri climbed beneath the covers, shyly circling once, twice, and then curling up in a ball at Victor’s side. His wide brown eyes danced up to Victor and Victor couldn’t breathe. That feeling - his love - was undeniable now, so much more than he’d ever imagined, even infatuated and head-in-the-clouds as he’d been in the beginning.

“Do we need to find a hotel for your cycle?” Victor asked. He laid down on his back, extending an arm out for Yuuri. His student tentatively came closer, carefully tucked himself against his coach. 

“I don’t think we can go back to that hotel,” Yuuri flushed. “I thought… I could stay here, in your room…” 

“Have your heat in my territory?” Victor murmured, and it was hard not to make it sound like a purr. 

Yuuri gave a little nod. “Is that OK?”

“I’ve always wanted to take care of you.”

There was a pause, like settling with the revelation of their mutual desire, soaking in it, savoring it, inhaling it. The next words they said almost simultaneously:  
“Can you mark me?”  
“Can I mark you?”

Then it was just Victor’s laughter and Yuuri’s shy giggle. 

“I’d love to,” Victor finally said. He twisted to look at Yuuri properly. “Now?”

Yuuri nodded his head. “I’ve never uhm - how should I…?” 

“You can lay down, on your stomach, or kneel…” Victor said. He pet Yuuri’s hair, brushing the back of his neck. “Just make sure your nape’s exposed.” 

Yuuri nodded and lifted off his shirt. He knelt next to the bed, facing away from Victor, and brushed up the hair on the back of his neck. He was presenting himself for marking the same way Victor had yearned for him to present his ass when he was rutting. This was so much more special, knowing they were both fully present, fully aware, unhindered by the overwhelming hormones of a cycle.

How odd, that self control had never felt so hard. Victor trembled.

With a familiar tug of his wrist, Victor pulled himself out of the slip in his briefs. He was half hard, but still soft enough to do what he needed. He came up behind Yuuri, guiding his head a bit farther forward, and then let a single drip escape his dick as he rubbed it across the back of Yuuri’s neck. 

He could see and feel the way it made Yuuri shiver.

Yuuri let his hair fall back into place, just brushing the dampness, then twisted his neck to gaze up at Victor.

“Now I smell like you.”

Victor beamed. He knelt down behind Yuuri, holding him the same way he did at the rink. 

“You know we…” Yuuri cleared his throat. “We don’t have to wait for my cycle.”

Victor had misunderstood Yuuri enough times that his immediate reaction wasn’t to get his hopes up, though his cock twitched embarrassingly in his briefs and he was certain Yuuri, tucked so close to him, could feel it. “To mate?” Victor whispered. 

Yuuri nodded, sliding his hand backwards until it found Victor’s hip and clasped there. “I want to remember it. I don’t want it to feel like a dream when my cycle’s over.” His hand slid to the top of Victor’s thigh, then the inside, feeling his way. “It wouldn’t have to be mating. We could just…” Yuuri stumbled over his words and had to swallow. “We could just have sex.” 

Victor touched his lips to Yuuri’s neck. He unwound an arm from Yuuri’s torso and scrubbed Yuuri’s back and side with it. His fingertips glanced over Yuuri’s shorts in question. “Are you sure?” Victor asked.

“If you want me,” Yuuri whispered. Victor kissed his affirmation into Yuuri’s neck. He could smell himself on Yuuri, telling anyone with a nose that Yuuri belonged to him. Was under his protection. Would be taken care of. 

How desperately he wanted to take care of Yuuri Katsuki.

“Here?” As Victor’s fingers slipped beneath the band of Yuuri’s shorts, curving around one sculpted cheek. Yuuri was terribly sensitive. His body shuddered and he gave a powerful nod.

“Just be quiet,” Yuuri begged.

Victor’s lips brushed a line along Yuuri’s collar bone in acquiescence, and Yuuri’s jaw slackened, lashes fluttering. Victor had come inside Yuuri so many times, knotted Yuuri, tied with him, and yet this experience, even just delicately touching his lips to Yuuri’s skin, made him so nervous and felt so new. For all the times they’d mated, they’d never really been intimate.

The hand cupping Yuuri’s cheek tensed and released, massaging the muscle before moving to the center. Two of Victor’s fingers rested in the crease, the tips nestling in the damp heat emanating from Yuuri’s entrance. 

“So wet already,” Victor said beneath his breath, a mix of awe and adoration. He saw Yuuri’s oscillating reactions: first a flinch of embarrassment, a blush, and then the slight lift of his hips so that Victor’s two fingers brushed his asshole properly. Victor watched Yuuri’s face as he rolled his fingertips through the crease, just stroking Yuuri’s hole. He could feel the tension and release as it winked, unseen under Yuuri’s shorts. 

The wetness was thick and viscous, almost slimy, perfect for coating a cock and a knot to ensure it could be safely seated inside. Victor waited until his fingers were drenched in it, until Yuuri’s breath came out as a trembling gasp. Then he pulled out his hand, cupping his two fingers in the cradle of his palm to prevent the wet from rubbing off. Yuuri glanced over his shoulder, desperate, wondering why Victor had stopped, but instead of answering Victor just took a breath of the heady scent and then slipped the two fingers into his mouth.

“Victor,” Yuuri begged. Victor hooked his fingertips in Yuuri’s shorts, pulling them down over Yuuri’s delicious ass, freeing the scent and sight of it, and then admiring as Yuuri stood to discard his shorts altogether.

Instead of kneeling beside the bed again, Yuuri climbed onto the mattress, though he still kept his back to Victor. It was like the foreplay of a presentation: keeping his ass in sight, but not quite bending just yet. 

Not offering yet. He’d make Victor work for it.

Victor came up behind him once more, one arm latching at Yuuri’s waist, one resuming its delicate fondling. Victor’s fingers toyed in Yuuri’s wetness, and after several pleading rocks of Yuuri’s hips, Victor finally slid them inside.

“You can handle me so easily,” Victor said, that same tone of wonder. 

Yuuri nodded, body pulsing around Victor’s fingers. “I’m yours… right?” 

Victor pressed a kiss to Yuuri’s neck, just below where he’d marked. “You’re mine, Yuuri Katsuki.” For once, the voice in the back of his head didn’t whisper _Yuuri Nikiforov_.

Victor couldn’t believe the way Yuuri felt around his fingers, clenching and tensing, like a throat trying to swallow them inside. He could feel every twitch and yearning of Yuuri’s body, a secret insight into his desire. 

“Can I bite you?” Victor asked. His teeth itched to clamp on Yuuri’s shoulder, nearly did so of their own accord, but instead Victor just exhaled a damp breath.

“Gentle,” Yuuri nodded, and he tilted his head to the side, offering his throat. Victor drew Yuuri closer, angling so his teeth rested on the crook of Yuuri’s neck. He closed his jaw, biting enough to make Yuuri gasp, soft enough there was no risk of breaking skin, only a brief flare of pressure. At the same time, he curved his fingers inside Yuuri, feeling out that sweet spot his knot would brush when they tied. 

The combination had Yuuri bending forward at last, almost limp, overwhelmed.

“Are you okay?” Victor whispered, and Yuuri just desperately nodded, face contorted in pleasure.

“ _Please._ ”

Yuuri lifted his body off of Victor’s fingers. For a split second Victor worried he’d gone too far, but then Yuuri was gazing at him over his shoulder, leaning forward to brace himself on the bed, and widening his legs in offering. 

Nothing on earth could have kept Victor from a presentation like that. 

Makkachin looked up as Victor’s discarded briefs landed on his back, but no one had attention to spare him. 

Before Victor could mount he remembered what Yuuri had said, like a dream: that he should do things properly. 

For an alpha, proper etiquette meant soothing his omechko before they mated. Victor leaned forward, breathing in Yuuri’s scent, and lowered his mouth into the middle of it. Yuuri was so wet, Victor’s cheeks glistened almost instantly, and Yuuri gave another muted gasp as Victor’s tongue laved out to taste. The smell of Yuuri had been intoxicating enough already; the taste was divine. 

He was so close to his heat, there was hardly any hint of Yuuri’s alpha pheromones. It was nearly all omechko, all inebriating. 

Victor tasted, and Victor drank, until Yuuri’s arms collapsed and he pressed his face into the sheets, grabbing a bundle in his fist to bite as his winced in pleasure.

“Is this okay?” Victor whispered as he lifted his mouth off Yuuri’s skin. 

“Please tie with me,” Yuuri said, the strain of his voice so earnest and raw.

Victor’s knot was already inflated, already a large, bulky thing dying to burrow. Victor knelt behind his omechko, letting his cock rest on the presented crevice of Yuuri’s ass, swollen and angry and needing both of them. He thrust twice through the furrow, covering his shaft in the thick, slimy wet, and then with the slightest angle of his hips, his next thrust pressed _in_ instead of over.

Again Yuuri bit at the wad of sheets around his hand, eyes rolling up into his skull. 

Victor needed to tie. With Yuuri fluttering all around him, sucking him deeper, Victor almost felt like he was lustblind again. 

His knot nudged at Yuuri’s asshole, a wall of flesh trying to gain entry. He was easily the size of a grapefruit at this point. He worried that without the frenzy of their cycle hormones, he’d already missed his chance to get inside. How could Yuuri take something already so engorged?

But Yuuri Katsuki hated losing. He refused to give up. 

He stared at Victor as he widened his hips and _pressed_ , dauntless, his full body weight engaged to take Victor’s cock. Victor made tiny, half inch thrusts, each one begging entrance, each one stretching Yuuri’s asshole. He kept this up until the look of determination on Yuuri’s face took his breath away, and then, with a pop and a shuddering, too loud cry, Yuuri’s body gave in and Victor’s knot burrowed inside. 

Yuuri came immediately, clasping the head of his cock, tears in his eyes, and Victor joined him, gushing seed now that he’d tied. 

Victor pet Yuuri’s back, soothing circles from shoulder to shoulder and over the breadth of his shoulder blades. No more thrusting, no more bucking hips, just the indescribable tightness of Yuuri’s body all around his knot, and the sight and smell of his marked omechko beneath him.

“Will you remember it?” Victor asked, voice just a whisper. 

Yuuri reached a hand back, trembling, and Victor laced their fingers.

“Always.”


	22. Chris: Best Friend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tfw you realize the acronym for your long omegaverse fic is "ALFAS" 
> 
> \-- 
> 
> Also, semi-indulgent word-building that should have been integrated but wasn't because Nano: mating and having sex, while mechanically similar, are treated very very differently in this world. For instance, if you asked Victor and Yuri if they'd had sex, they'd both curl their noses in disgust and ask what was wrong with you (or Yuri would at least). But if you asked if they'd mated, they'd both awkwardly admit to it. Mating is directly related to satisfying the hormonal needs caused by being feral - needs that, unmet, are extremely psychologically and physically painful. This means the rules for sex and mating are different too, esp wrt to sex work, age of consent, etc. 
> 
> Also! While both are consensual and require consent, having sex is much more intentional: done for the pleasure and intimacy of both partners instead of for some underlying biological impulse. This is why Yuuri asking to have sex felt so very different than when he'd mated with Chris/Victor before. 
> 
> OK that is all <3 <3 <3

_I’m going to marry him_

Chris had heard this before. _So_ many times. But it had never felt quite this real. It had never felt possible or realistic or _true_.

_i know baby_   
_i believe you_

_He let me mark him_

Chris snorted to himself. 

_hah_   
_finally someone who WANTS you to pee on them_

_:p_   
_Hey. Uhm._   
_Which of these rings do you think is best?_

Well. It had never progressed this far before. Chris looked at the next several images that came in: gaudy, overzealous diamonds and intricate bejeweled things. 

_yuuri is simpler than these, isn’t he_   
_what about something timeless_

Chris opened the browser on his phone and did his own searches, sending several more traditional bands back to Victor. 

_Well it HAS to be gold_

_you never get anything less :*_   
_despite my best attempts_

_:*_

They exchanged photos for a half hour - a half hour that Chris only later learned happened while Victor was tied with Yuuri. Not that Yuuri had been particularly aware; he was in the midst of his heat, and Victor was taking care of him the way Victor used to take care of Chris. 

_This one_ , Victor finally said. 

It was a beautiful ring, really, Chris told himself, but his throat felt tight as he typed. 

_its perfect, baby_   
_anyone would be overjoyed to have a ring like that_

_I’m getting it_ , Victor texted.  
 _I’m going to ask him to marry me_

But Chris couldn’t respond. 

He didn’t know why he was crying, really. Just that the tears were pouring down his cheeks and all of the tension that had built in his chest was coming free in ugly, sobbing chunks. 

_Chris?_

— 

He’d recovered, more or less, by the time his flight landed in Barcelona. Victor said he’d propose after the final. Chris would probably still be there. Victor asked him to stay, after the exhibitions. 

Of course Chris had said yes. 

What else could he say to Victor?

In the interim, he’d been self-medicating with alcohol - albeit far more moderately than Victor’s version of coping. Besides, Chris had a competition to win. A drink or two a night, hardly enough to feel it. That was all.

Chris changed into his bathrobe, grabbed a bottle of champagne and a flute, and trekked to the hotel pool to relax. 

Someone had beat him to it. 

“Of course it’s the Russian and the Swiss visiting the pool in the middle of December,” Chris mused as he found Victor floating.

“Chris!” Victor beamed, and his elation was so pure how could Chris possibly be upset with him?

“Coach Victor,” Chris smirked, hand on his hip. “I wanted to go skinny dipping, you know. Relax, have a drink…” 

“Don’t let me stop you,” Victor teased back, swimming to the edge of the pool. He crossed his arms over the ledge, touching Chris’ ankle with his damp fingers. “I’ll even take pictures.”

“Oh? Your future husband, Yuuri Katsuki, won’t be upset?” Chris stepped out of his slippers, nudging Victor’s hand with his toe. 

“I think he’ll enjoy them, too.”

Chris poured himself a glass, discarded his robe, and waited until Victor had toweled off his hands enough to use his phone.

They’d played this game so many times before. It was almost reassuring, posing with his head tilted back, throat exposed, legs crossed and chest angled to show off his abs. He ran through a slew of positions while Victor cooed praise in French. 

“Mmm. It’s good to have you around again. I’ve felt so old since you left,” Chris said. “I’m only 25 and practically a grandpa compared to the other skaters.”

“And yet you’re sexier than all of them,” Victor said.

“What about your future husband?” 

“Even he agreed your eros was more mature,” Victor chuckled.

“ _Mature_ ,” Chris echoed. 

“Not like _that_ ,” Victor laughed. “The point was that you’re very sexy.”

Chris smiled like it didn’t sting. He dove into the pool, letting the shock of the cool water cut off any ill-conceived attempts by his body to generate its own moisture. 

Either kind, really.

Chris focused on the pictures. He flaunted for Victor: lifting his legs out of the water to do a split, pointing his toes, He crawled out of the pool like a jungle cat, even going so far as to growl as he swiped for Victor’s towel. 

They wound up laughing together, tumbling, at least until Victor paused and leaned forward, snuffing with his nose too close to Chris’ hair for comfort. 

“Chris…” Victor said, in a disjointedly earnest tone. “… Are you spiking?” 

Well. That would certainly explain the mood swings, wouldn’t it?

— 

“Come on,” Victor had said. “Let me and Yuuri take care of you.” 

Chris was rarely one to blush, but he felt the blood rising to his cheeks as he stood outside the door to Victor and Yuuri’s room, shivering from the chill as Victor fought with the keycard.

“Yuuri!” he called out as the door finally swung open. He danced from foot to foot, still occasionally dripping. “It’s so cold! Let’s get warm together!” 

Victor seemed to have no regard for the fact that Yuuri had clearly just woken up, bedraggled and slow to respond. 

“Perhaps we should make coffee too?” Chris chuckled, only then Victor was launching at his future husband, towel discarded in favor of squeezing his damp body against Yuuri’s sweat-shirted one. 

“Aiii!” Yuuri yelped as Chris followed his lead. “You’re both FREEZING!” 

“Look how warm you are, though,” Victor beamed, nuzzling at Yuuri’s neck. Even with all the chlorine and scent-blockers from the pool, Chris could still make out Victor’s scent: not just in the room, emanating from the little cotton cylinders in the corners, but coming from Yuuri, too. 

Victor hadn’t just marked Yuuri; he’d been keeping him marked. 

“Oh… Chris,” Yuuri said as he finally managed to wiggle himself free. “You — are you alright?”

“He smells like he’s spiking, doesn’t he?” Victor asked.

Yuuri blushed. “Was I rude?”

“It’s OK,” Chris reassured. “I didn’t realize until Victor noticed.”

Yuuri looked between the two of them, then gave a distinctly eros arch of his brow: “So… we get to make up for missing your heat?”

Chris was used to feeling suave and competent, and suddenly _Yuuri Katsuki_ was making him swoon? 

“If you want. I told Victor I could probably find a parlor,” Chris said. 

Yuuri glanced at Victor, who was lightly rubbing his hand up and down Chris’ robed back. Yuuri scooted closer. “We’ve both helped you before. Why parlor when you’ve got friends?”

“That’s what I said, too,” Victor grinned, sitting next to Yuuri and slinging an arm around his shoulders. “Why don’t you start?”

“You won’t growl at me?” Yuuri raised his brow. 

“You’re already marked,” Victor said. “You’re not a threat.” 

“We’ll see,” Yuuri smirked, and when his eyes flicked to Chris he couldn’t help the way his ass snapped tight.

Damn them both. Damn them both for being so perfect.

Yuuri wiggled out of his clothes with the same adorable lack of innuendo as he had the first time with Chris. He wasn’t trying to be sexy, wasn’t trying to seduce, and maybe that made him all the more attractive. 

“You aren’t going to growl at me, either, are you?” Chris asked as he laid down, not even bothering to take off his bathrobe. He kept it tied at his waist as he tossed his speedo away, then tucked his hips up to his chest. It wasn’t a traditional presentation, but judging by the size of Yuuri and Victor’s pupils it was effective all the same.

“Well. Not a bad growl anyway,” Victor whispered. 

Yuuri was being a gentleman, looking to Victor just once for confirmation before he lowered his head between Chris’ legs. Just like last time, Yuuri was remarkably patient and gentle, laving his tongue across Chris’ asshole and inside it until Chris was trembling. He was so wet, so ready, and still in utter shock that it was happening. 

To his side was Victor, and between his legs: Victor’s future husband.

His spike kicked into gear: a glimpse of fever, the inability to think straight. He wrapped his arms around Yuuri and moaned as Yuuri thrust into him.

“Yes,” Chris gasped. Yuuri was smaller than him, but still had the sculpted musculature of a professional athlete, still packed so much punch with every hit of his hips.

Chris tilted his head to the side, saw Victor in the hotel chair stroking himself, cradling his knot in one hand while the other drifted along the shaft. 

“Yes, yes, yes, Yuuri,” Chris groaned. Perhaps if it had just been the two of them, he would have tried to stay quiet, but he loved the way Victor bit his lip. He could smell Victor, smell Yuuri, and all of it thrilled him. 

“All the way baby,” Chris instructed as he felt Yuuri’s knot growing, stretching Chris so deliciously as it worked its way in and out.

“Your knot’s beautiful, Yuuri,” Victor murmured, and between the two of them Yuuri’s face was flush red. But it must have felt good, having his coach and alpha praise him, because Yuuri’s knot ballooned and lodged itself in Chris’ body.

“ _Yes_.” Chris tugged on the tie of his robe and let it fall open, if only so it wouldn’t get dirty as he started to come. He let it shoot across his chest, making a mess of his abdomen, dribbling into his navel. 

Somehow he’d managed to stay semi-lucid during it. He looked up to find Yuuri smiling, rolling his hips to grind his knot inside Chris. _Fuck_ \- as if he could ever blame Victor for falling in love with this. 

“Well?” Victor asked, approaching the bed until Yuuri gave an alpha’s protective growl. He stayed just out of range. “What do you think of my little minx, Chris?”

“I hate you both,” Chris snorted, “for missing my heat.”

“He’s that good, hmm?” Victor teased. “We’ll be there for worlds, won’t we, Yuuri?” 

Yuuri flushed, like maybe there was something he hadn’t told Victor, but there was no way in hell Victor would ever recognize that subtlety, and Chris opted not to pry - at least for the moment.

“You better be,” Chris said simply, but he softened his eyes for Yuuri, pet Yuuri’s back in reassurance. 

A wave of hormones all but knocked him out. He laid on his back, purring without any sort of capacity for conscious thought, and his body rode Yuuri’s knot on automatic.

—

“Chrissss.”

Victor’s sing-song voice penetrated Chris’ fog and he focused his eyes to find Victor between his legs, knotted with him.

“I swear to god baby if you pee in me…” Chris groaned.

“I won’t!” Victor laughed. “Probably.”

“ _Victor_ ,” that would be Yuuri. Chris tilted his head, found a freshly-showered Yuuri practicing his stretches beside the bed. When Yuuri saw him he gave a big smile. “Starting to feel better?” 

“Mmm,” Chris said. He’d never imagined how good it would feel to have Victor’s knot in him again. Yuuri’s knot was delightful, and Yuuri was so gentle with him, but Victor had a nostalgia factor now, a familiarity. 

“Softening up?” Chris asked Victor, and Victor gave an experimental tug that only confirmed he was still tightly lodged.

“I can smell both of you,” Victor tried to justify it. “It’s uh —“ 

“He’s been tied with you for thirty two minutes already,” Yuuri grinned.

Chris’ eyes ballooned. “Damn, baby.” 

It was adorable, how Victor puffed up at the praise, lifting his chest and pulling back his shoulders, huffing and angling his chin in pride. 

“As if his ego needed to get any bigger,” Chris chuckled. He wiggled again, but his body was shot, the last of the hormones having faded away again. If he’d tried, he probably could have gotten one last orgasm off of Victor’s knot, but it was far more fun just to watch Victor kneel, tied, and look at his soon-to-be-fiancé doing stretches. “Thank you both.”

“Thanks for letting us help,” Yuuri said. “I felt really bad we couldn’t help with your heat.” 

“Victor wouldn’t have had the stamina anyway, after his rut,” Chris chuckled. 

“Yuuri would have,” Victor smirked. “Yuuri has excellent stamina.”

Yuuri flushed. 

Chris felt Victor’s knot finally reach the point that he could expel him with a push. There was a towel underneath them - it and to be Yuuri’s doing, Victor would never think of something like that - and the combined spend of both alphas overflowed as soon as Chris was unplugged. Victor was too distracted to clean Chris up - of course - so Chris found himself toweling up the mess himself. 

“Mind if I use your shower?” Chris asked. 

“Oh me too!” Victor said. 

But before they disappeared into the bathroom Yuuri caught Victor’s wrist. Victor gave a growl, but then Yuuri just smiled sweetly at him and twisted his neck, brushing up the hair on the back. With a smirk, Victor grabbed a scent-eater from the nightstand, swiped his dick clean, and then brushed his cock on Yuuri’s neck, leaving behind a glistening smear. 

Chris was glad his spike had ebbed. Glad that little gesture didn’t make him fall apart. Instead it just sat in his chest, like a crumb stuck in his lung, a dull and incorrigible ache.

— 

Chris came out of the shower to find Yuuri curled up in bed. 

“About earlier…” Chris said, sitting on the edge. “Worlds is… a long time from now. You don’t have to do anything.” 

“Huh?” Yuuri blinked. 

“You know. If you don’t want to. Or if you don’t want Victor to. I understand. I get it.” 

“Oh…no, it’s not - it’s not that.” 

Chris gave Yuuri a curious look. Yuuri frowned, glancing to the bathroom, but the shower was still running. No one could primp and preen like Victor Nikiforov. 

“You were right,” Yuuri explained. “It’s… selfish of me to keep Victor to myself.” He tucked his knees to his chest, arms winding around them. “I didn’t care that it wasn’t fair to everyone else. But then I realized…” 

Yuuri’s knuckles were white, his hands clenched into tight little balls, slowly squeezing and releasing like a kitten kneading for milk. For comfort. 

Chris laid his hand over Yuuri’s. “It’s okay. Whatever it is, it’s okay.” 

“It’s not fair to _him_ ,” Yuuri whimpered. “To - to put a career like his on hold for someone like _me_?”

“Hey,” Chris said. “He chose this. He chose _you_. Because of how you made him feel.” Chris squeezed Yuuri’s fist. “I guarantee he doesn’t regret a second of it.”

The shower turned off and they both went quiet, Chris just rubbing Yuuri’s knuckles. Victor popped out of the room a moment later, not even bothering with a towel. 

“Yuuri! It’s time for you to go to bed,” Victor announced, adopting his coach’s voice. Of course he’d be oblivious. Chris stood up, flashing Yuuri a comforting smile. 

“Goodnight, mes chers, and thank you.”


	23. Yuuri: Decisions

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sticking to canon is hard :<

Yuuri woke up with Victor’s arm at his waist, Victor’s breath on his neck, and Victor’s scent like an aura around them both. He sank into that comfort, that divine connection, and all he could imagine was how close he was to losing it. 

“What are you thinking about, Yuuri?” Victor asked during practice. Yuuri missed his quad flip several times in a row, and he knew Victor was worried about him getting too banged up. Yuuri guzzled down his water, watching the other skaters. Yuri fumed at every little thing. Chris moved with that experienced seduction and sensuality that still made Yuuri’s cock twitch. Phichit looked so proud, so excited, elated just to be here. 

“Yuuri?” Victor prodded. “Are you done for the day?” 

“One more?” Yuuri asked. The other skaters were leaving the ice, calling it a day and giving over the ice to the next group. Chris gave them both a wink as he walked past, elbowing Victor suggestively. Victor’s eyes widened and he shoved his hand into his jacket pocket with a blush. What…? 

“Alright. One more,” Victor said when Chris was gone. Only Yuri remained on the ice with him. “Don’t think too hard.”

Yuuri skated past Yuri, swiveling on his skates to watch him as he gathered speed. Bring your best, Yuri had said. 

Yuuri spun as his blade left the ice, torque and momentum straining his body until that reverberating force of his landing zinged up his leg. He carried the movement through, arm lifted, and then flashed a smile as he stabilized.

“Yes!” Victor cheered. 

“Tsch,” Yuri snarled. 

Yuuri swiped his hand through his hair as he went back to Victor, trying to keep the sweat away from his neck and the mark there. He stepped off the ice and tugged on his skate guards. 

“We should go back to the hotel and make sure you get some rest,” Victor said.

_That_ was what Yuuri had been thinking about when he flubbed his jump. The time he wanted to spend with Victor. The way he wanted to be at Victor’s side.

“ _Now_ you’re going to be the model coach?” Yuuri teased. He took a step closer to Victor. “I’ve never been to Barcelona before. Take me sight-seeing?” 

Victor blinked in surprise. Yuuri tried his best beseeching grin - though he worried it just came off as shy. Regardless, it must have worked. 

Victor’s lips ticked up: “Leave it to me.”

— 

Playing tourist with Victor didn’t just mean famous sites and fancy food and hours of shopping - it also meant showing off his scent in public. 

Yuri caught it first, taking a quick whiff as Yuuri and Victor were leaving. 

“About time, Old Man,” he growled. Victor just smirked, sliding his arm into its usual place around Yuuri, while Yuuri blushed with pride. 

There were more after that, in the wilds of Barcelona. It wasn’t like many people were feral to begin with, but it was nice seeing the few with noses look between Victor and Yuuri in recognition, as a set instead of two different people. It was fun, too, the way Victor’s lip twitched whenever another alpha got too close, especially the one they’d passed who was pre-rut. Yuuri had never been marked before, never had an alpha to protect him and fight over him. He hadn’t needed it, or even realized he wanted it, especially given his own alpha hormones half the year.

But still. He couldn’t deny its appeal.

He and Victor took pictures outside the Sagrada Familia, wandered the Gothic Quarter, and wound up outside Gaudi’s Casa Batlló several hours later, arms weighed down with their spoils.

Yuuri sat, letting the bags droop off his arms to rest on the bench. This was good. He’d be tired tonight; with any luck he’d fall right asleep.

“Do you want anything, Yuuri?” Victor asked, trying to take care of him still. He’d spent the whole day at Yuuri’s side, shadowing him or fawning over him, making him try his favorite foods and buying him little things, buying everyone little things. A port for Minako, a scarf for Yuuri’s mom, candied nuts for Chris.

“I’m alright,” Yuuri assured, smiling at Victor’s usual enthusiasm.

It was almost enough to pull Yuuri out of his head. 

Almost. 

He sat on the bench, figuring out how he’d say it: _It’s over, the two of us_ , or maybe — 

“I know,” Victor beamed, “I’ll buy you a new suit for your birthday. That old one is terrible.”

Yuuri found himself pulled to his feet, gasping as he scrambled to get their bags. “W-w-wait! I like that suit!”

They made it all the way to the tailor before Yuuri realized one of the bags was missing. He felt it like someone dumped freezing water over his head. Victor had spent the whole afternoon taking care of Yuuri, showing him the city, wining and dining, and Yuuri couldn’t even keep track of a single bag? Yuuri just carelessly lost Victor’s gift for Chris? Treated it like it meant nothing? 

“Th-the bag,” Yuuri stuttered before Victor could open the door. “I— I lost one of the bags.” 

He stalked off in the other direction, back down the broad central street with its tree-lined median, through the growing evening throngs. The sun was setting by the time they reached Casa Batlló again, and the bag was nowhere to be found. A bag! He couldn’t even _hold bags_ properly. What was he _doing_ next to Victor Nikforov? What had he _done_ to Victor Nikiforov? This entire year he’d wasted Victor’s time away and for what? To lose a bag of nuts? To barely make it to the grand prix final? To fall on his face again and embarrass himself on international broadcast?

“Yuuri.” 

“I thought I left it right here,” Yuuri whimpered. “I’m so sorry.” The simplest thing, and Yuuri managed to mess it up. “We can go buy more! I’ll get them —“ 

“Calm down, Yuuri.” 

Victor was in front of him, standing close. Yuuri glanced around him to either side, searching desperately for the bag until a powerful wave of Victor’s pheromones made him pause. He looked up into Victor’s cool, wintery eyes and everything fell away. 

“Yuuri. It’s okay,” Victor smiled. “It’s just a bag of nuts. The shop’s closed now anyway. We should go home. You’re tired aren’t you?”

As if it was so obvious. As if Yuuri was a child. “You don’t have to say it like that!” 

“ _I’m_ tired,” Victor amended.

Yuuri let a breath wash out of him. Victor took the bags, easing them from Yuuri’s strangling hold. 

“Come on, Yuuri,” Victor soothed. “Let’s go home.” 

— 

They wound up in a Christmas market on the the way back, lights warm against the cool winter sky. The air smelled of spiced wine and evergreen, citrus cakes and cinnamon cookies. People meandered through, buying gifts and listening to the carolers, grinning and laughing.

All Yuuri wanted was to make Victor laugh, to buy him a little gift too. He felt himself on the cusp of the end of their relationship. Whatever happened at the final, everything after would be _different_. Yuuri would retire, and if he retired… 

He couldn’t imagine life without Victor. He couldn’t imagine going back to — to where? To what? He’d have nothing. No more career. No more goals. No more love. 

He wanted something. Something to show his love. Something that represented everything he felt for Victor, that he could give to Victor to make him smile.

And something for Yuuri, too. To have when Victor was gone. 

“Your birthday is coming up. Christmas day - isn’t it?” Yuuri asked. 

“Mmhm,” Victor nodded. He’d been quiet, sipping hot wine at Yuuri’s side. 

“What would you like for your gift?” What could he get that would make Victor happy?

“Oh… in Russia we don’t really celebrate Christmas. Or birthdays, beforehand.”

“Oh…” Yuuri frowned. 

Still. There had to be something. He scanned the stalls, searching, eyes pouring over the dolls and candles, chocolate desserts and wooden crosses. Christmas was supposed to be all about love, wasn’t it? And yet nothing…nothing did justice to the way Yuuri felt. 

To the permanence, the dedication, the life-altering reality of his and Victor’s love.

Yuuri stopped dead in his tracks with a gasp.


	24. Victor: Surprises

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> short one; next is Chris and will be posted tonight

Victor nearly ran into Yuuri when he came to an abrupt stop in the middle of the Christmas market. Yuuri had been looking for something, and Victor, acutely aware of Yuuri’s burgeoning anxiety, had said nothing, merely walked alongside him. At least until he skid to a halt and squeaked. 

It was adorable, really.

Victor was about to ask Yuuri what was wrong when Yuuri darted forward, pushing himself up against the glass of a … jewelry store? His head bobbed side to side, investigating the display, and then he turned around looking possessed.

“Victor!” Yuuri exclaimed. “We have to go into this shop!”

Victor didn’t realize it, at first. What was happening. He looked around at the watches and cufflinks only to find Yuuri leaning over a counter filled with wedding bands. 

“Can you size our fingers please?!” Yuuri asked the jeweler. 

Wait.

Was Yuuri — had Chris told Yuuri about the ring? Wanted to make sure Victor got the right size? 

Victor held out his hand, numbly, as the jeweler slipped metal sizers around his ring finger. 

“They’re - they’re good luck charms,” Yuuri stuttered. But these weren’t good luck charms. These were globally recognized expressions of connection and love and — 

“This set please,” Yuuri said when they’d both been sized, and Victor’s jaw was slack, staring in shock as Yuuri pulled out his credit card. Yuuri was buying them wedding rings. Yuuri Katsuki was buying him a wedding ring. Yuuri Katsuki was — 

“I’ll pay in installments.” and the jeweler nodded and handed over the box.

“Victor,” Yuuri said, and Victor didn’t know if any time had passed at all. He felt Yuuri taking the bags back from him, tugging on his hand, and all Victor could think about was the weight of the ring box in his jacket pocket. 

He had a stunned blush on his cheeks, ear to ear. Yuuri had led him up the steps of the cathedral, to stand beneath the appraising saints. 

Yuuri was going to propose to him. Right here. Right now. This was happening. His little minx had beaten him to it. How could — ? 

“C- can I have your hand?” Yuuri asked. 

With a swallow, convinced this must be some strange dream, Victor lifted his hand. Yuuri set down the bags, taking Victor’s glove and tenderly drawing it down over Victor’s finger, and off. The winter night should have chilled him, but Victor only felt the warmth of Yuuri’s skin. 

He knew Yuuri’s anxiety could find unexpected outlets, but he’d never imagined… 

Yuuri cradled the heel of Victor’s hand and slid the golden band onto Victor’s ring finger.

“Thank you for everything up to now,” Yuuri said. Victor stared at the gleam of metal around his finger, a mark of ownership that would never wash off or grow stale or fade. It was simple, just like Chris had said. Timeless. “I… I couldn’t think of something better.”

Yuuri’s words spilled out, and Victor wasn’t sure if he’d remember them at all or for the rest of his life. Something better than a wedding ring? Something better than a promise that there was more beyond the grand prix? 

There was nothing better.

“But, um… I’ll try my best from tomorrow on, so —“ Yuuri held the second ring, offering it to Victor. “Tell me something for good luck?”

It took Victor long enough to respond that Yuuri’s hands dropped back to his sides, eyes downcast, face completely flush.

“Sure,” Victor whispered, reaching to take Yuuri’s wrist. He’d done that the very first night he arrived in Hasetsu, hadn’t he? He’d taken Yuuri’s wrist, and Yuuri had shot back in shock. 

There was no shock now, just wide brown eyes staring up at him, sparkling in the evening light. 

Just as Yuuri had, Victor held up Yuuri’s hand, fingertips tenderly brushing the soft skin. “I’ll say something you won’t even have to think about.” 

He’d thought about what he wanted to say when he proposed to Yuuri. He’d sent little text blips to Chris, who’d helped him with the phrasing, laughed at how ridiculous it was going to be, promised to be there with him to take photos from afar. He’d started to memorize the words, committing them for the moment he got down on one knee. 

So of course, he couldn’t remember a word of it. 

“Tomorrow, show me the skating you can honestly say you liked best,” he whispered as he slid the ring up Yuuri’s finger. It was the only way he knew to win gold. The surest way he could give Yuuri a golden circle of his own, since Yuuri had beaten him to the rings. 

“Okay,” Yuuri said, eyes twinkling, and Victor didn’t know what to do with himself. 

All this time, all these months, he’d been swearing to Chris up and down that he was going to marry this man. All this time, he’d talked about Yuuri Nikiforov, and now here he was: Victor Katsuki.

Yuuri slid Victor’s glove back on, then squeezed his hand as he led them down the cathedral stairs. 

“I’m hungry,” he laughed, like the anxiety had finally lifted and he’d discovered other needs existed somewhere beneath it. Victor laughed, too, in shock or disbelief or everything. He slung his arm around Yuuri’s shoulder, felt Yuuri’s arm find its place around his waist.

“Let’s get something to eat.”


	25. Chris: The Twist

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> @___@

_CHRIS!!!!!!!!_

Well. This oughta be good. 

_I NEED YOU TO COME HAVE DINNER WITH US_

_i already ate_

_I DONT CARE_

_where_

_[~*~Victor~*~] has shared his location_

_ugh 10 mins_

_FIVE_

Chris shook his head, grabbed his coat, checked for his wallet, and headed out of his hotel room. What could Victor possibly need the night before the competition? They’d seemed fine at practice. Had Victor decided to propose tonight? No - that would have been cruel, overwhelming poor Yuuri with emotion like that. Anyone could tell the Japanese skater was sensitive. 

Well, probably anyone except for Victor. 

Chris couldn’t help a little tick of his chin as he imagined them married, given how their lives had unfolded the past year. Those two were going to have one hell of a time. But hey, maybe after the mayhem of discovering Yuuri’s feral sex and all of Victor’s misplaced anal efforts, they were finally starting to communicate. 

Maybe.

The restaurant was only a few blocks away, tented seating outside, but Chris was still the last to arrive. Victor and Yuuri shared one side of the table, Yuri and Otabek Altin - _that_ was interesting - next to them, and Yuuri’s instructor and sister next to that. On the final side, Phichit Chulanot sat beside an empty seat that Chris slid easily into. 

He shot Victor a look of curiosity, but Victor just gave a subtle shake of his head. 

_Not yet_.

Alright then. 

Chris sipped at his drink, trying to strike up conversation with Yuuri’s instructor until he overhead Yuuri. 

“It’s weird for us all to be here together, right before the final. At last year’s final, I was alone all the time, even at the banquet. I couldn’t even talk to Victor!” Yuuri laughed.

Victor spat his drink out, and Chris would have, too, if he’d been drinking. “Yuuri - _you don’t remember?!_ ” 

Ho.

Ly.

Shit.

“What?” Yuuri blinked in surprise. 

Chris was dying: “Yuuri, you got drunk on champagne and started dancing.” He stared at Yuuri, hoping to see some spark of recognition. “Everyone saw.” 

“Huh?!” Yuuri yelped. 

“It was disgusting as hell,” Yuri growled. “I was dragged into a dance battle and got humiliated.”

“D-D-Dance battle?!” Yuuri gaped. “With Yurio?!”

There was nothing: no recollection, no memories, only the mortified, quaking mess of Yuuri Katsuki. 

“And me. You and I did ours as a pole dance,” Chris said to Yuuri. “Half-naked.”

Nothing. Nothing. Nothing. Chris and Victor exchanged a look of shock.

“I still have videos of what happened,” Victor said, like maybe that would help. (And as if he hadn’t sent them to Chris a hundred times in the interim. As if he didn’t watch them almost daily.)

“I do too,” Chris said, pulling out his phone. He hoped no one would notice just how easily he thumbed to the pictures in question, staring at his nearly-naked body twined around a pole, supporting Yuuri. Phichit leaned over and went pale. 

“Wait, what?!” Phichit gasped. “Yuuri! That’s so dirty!”

“Isn’t he amazing?” Victor sighed. He was showing his phone to Otabek while Yuuri desperately flailed at Chris, trying to stop Phichit and his friends from looking as Chris swiped through his collection. 

That was when Chris noticed. 

It wasn’t the ring he and Victor had picked out. It was on Victor’s finger instead of Yuuri’s, but it was there, undeniable: a golden band gleaming in perfect compliment to Victor’s Stammi Vicino phone case. Chris looked to Yuuri’s flailing hands and found a matching ring. He felt something in his chest wrench apart.

It was more than a proposal, then. They’d gotten _married_ \- all in a single evening.

“What’s with the rings, you two?” Chris asked, because if he didn’t speak he was going to cry. 

Victor must have wrecked his plan. It was a very Victor thing to do, really: Set up something grand and chuck it at the last minute in favor of whatever caught his fancy.

“Rings?” Yuuri’s sister asked. 

“I don’t remember you wearing that,” Minako added.

Yuuri clasped his hand to cover it, looking like a deer in the headlights. _That_ was strange. Why would Yuuri want to hide his wedding ring? Was he embarrassed about how quickly it had all happened? Worried what people would think?

“They’re a pair,” Victor said, holding out his hand beside Yuuri’s. Victor’s eyes ticked up to Chris, glinting. Before Chris could say anything, Phichit jumped up beside them:

“CONGRATULATIONS ON YOUR MARRIAGE!” He cried out. Yuuri made a squawking noise as Phichit turned to the restaurant: “Everyone! My good friend here got married!” 

The whole restaurant filled with cheers and applause. 

“No no no no!” Yuuri was shouting. “This is a — this is just a gift!”

_A gift?!_ Victor had gotten Yuuri a wedding ring and called it _a gift_? What the hell had they gotten themselves into now? 

“T-to thank Victor for all his help! And —” 

Wait - _Yuuri_ had gotten _Victor_ a wedding ring? _Yuuri_ had proposed? Or —- _not proposed_ and just called it a gift? Chris knew the two of them were hopeless, but even _he_ couldn’t imagine how they got here. He stared as the story unfolded. 

“—And lots of other things!!” Yuuri gasped. _Other things_? Chris choked and looked at Victor, remembering the way Victor had bent Yuuri’s head forward and marked him. “Yes - other things!”

Victor calmed the group: “Yeah, don’t get the wrong idea. This is an engagement ring.” An engagement ring was _very_ different than a thank you gift. “We’ll get married when Yuuri wins a gold medal.” Victor grinned. “Right, Yuuri?”

“V-Victor!” 

Otabek’s enthusiastic clapping had ceased. Chris’ brow furrowed at Victor’s stunning lack of tact. Even Phichit’s ever-cheerful face fell into a serious line. 

“Gold medal, hm?” Chris repeated. It was easier to be mad than any of the darker feelings eating at Chris’ foundations. 

“Tsch,” Yuri glared. 

“Wait a second!” They all glanced up at the booming sound of JJ’s voice: “ _I’m_ the one who’ll win gold and gets married!” He proclaimed, and his girlfriend - or, fiancee, apparently - added: “That’s right; it’ll definitely be JJ.”

“Sorry we can’t congratulate you on that future marriage,” JJ smirked.

Wow. 

Wow wow wow. 

_Rude_.

Well, at least Victor wasn’t the only one completely lacking any sort of tact or social graces. Chris stood up from his chair, like for a second he might rip the throat out of that arrogant beta for interrupting his best friend’s celebration. But in the end he just put down his cash.

“Let’s go,” Chris said. “I need to rest up for tomorrow.”

“Yeah, I lost my appetite,” Yuri sneered. 

“I left my other phone on my other selfie stick,” Phichit said, and they walked past JJ and out of the restaurant. 

— 

Yuri and Otabek peeled away from the group first, and Yuuri’s sister and instructor lost interest soon after. By the time they reached the hotel, it was only Chris, Yuuri, and Victor. 

“I’m really tired,” Yuuri flushed. “I need to sleep.”

“Go on,” Victor said. “I’ll be up soon, but don’t wait for me.” 

They both watched Yuuri trek wearily to the elevator, arms weighed down in bags, and only when the door closed did Chris grab Victor’s sleeve and tug.

“What. Happened.”

“You should rest, too,” Victor said, hand covering Chris’. He squeezed. “You’re tired, aren’t you?”

“Don’t you dare. I’m exhausted, but that doesn’t mean I’m missing out on this. _He proposed to you?_ ”

“Well, not exactly,” Victor said, hand on the back of his neck. Chris could smell the scent wafting off him, anxiety he was used to smelling Yuuri. He pulled Victor out of the lobby, into a disused hall.

“You got married?”

“No,” Victor frowned. “It’s…”

“It’s…?” 

“I thought that’s what was happening,” Victor murmured. “He bought the rings and he took us to the church. But he didn’t get down on one knee, and —“ Victor had to pause, clear his throat “— and he didn’t ask me anything. He just… put it on my finger and said it was for good luck tomorrow.”

“A ring like that,” Chris blinked. “A matching set. … For good luck?”

“I panicked and said they were engagement rings!” Victor whimpered. “I mean - Phichit thought so, too, right?!”

“Oh, baby,” Chris frowned. He couldn’t stand the ache in Victor’s eyes, even as his own ache lightened. Victor and Yuuri weren’t married. Hadn’t gotten engaged. 

Or at least not agreed to, whatever the situation was now. 

Victor ran his hand through his hair again, fingertips trembling, staring a million miles away. Chris hadn’t seen him like this since before Yuuri released the video. Or, Chris realized in retrospect: it really _had_ been an accident that it leaked. Yuuri wasn’t a little minx. Hadn’t been playing Victor. Hadn’t lured him out. 

That was too tragic to even think about.

Chris swallowed Victor into an enormous hug before he could help himself. “It’s OK.”

“I mean… what do I do now?” Victor asked. “Do- do I still propose? How can I propose after this? But if I don’t - what, what are we? Are we engaged? Do I really have to wait until he has a gold medal? I wasn’t even thinking when I said that, I just thought it might motivate him and —“ 

“Shhh,” Chris whispered, kissing Victor’s forehead. He didn’t have much height on Victor, but he used it, cupping the back of Victor’s head in his palm and guiding Victor’s cheek to his shoulder.

Victor clung to him, taking big, deep snuffs of Chris’ scent. 

Chris stayed as calm as possible. He brushed his thumb over Victor’s nape, each stroke firm and soothing, until he felt the tremors lose their vigor.

“It’s OK,” Chris repeated.

“What do I _do_?” Victor whispered. 

“You go up to bed,” Chris said. “You kiss your mate goodnight. For the next two days you do nothing but support him as much and as hard as you can.” 

Victor gave a little nod against Chris’ neck.

“Then, once the final’s over, you tell him how much you love him, my little wolf.” Chris had to pause to keep his voice from breaking. His Adam’s apple bobbed with barely controlled breath and his arms clasped Victor close: “You tell him you want to spend the rest of your life with him.” 

Victor hugged back, desperate, just as emphatic. “Thank you.” 

Chris wouldn’t cry. He wouldn’t cry. 

“For… you know.”

The tear snuck out before he could stop it, drifting down his cheek, brushed away in secret lest Victor see it. “Go to sleep, baby,” Chris whispered. “I love you.”


	26. Yuri: Ugh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is called "how many ways can I put off writing That Scene"
> 
> (I'll post That Scene tonight)

Yuri was up early. 

He’d tried to go back to sleep, but there was too much in his head. The competition, Otabek Altin, his upcoming rut, the train wreck of Yuuri Katsuki. 

Yuuri smelled more like an omega now, which should have made Yuri hate him less, but instead it just made him angrier. Yuri pulled on his track suit and snuck out of the hotel, jogging along the river and thinking about Yuuri’s smell so he wouldn’t trip thinking about Otabek’s. 

Yuri found Victor standing on the shore, staring at the golden ring on his hand, and did the only thing appropriate. 

He smashed his foot into Victor’s back.

“That’s what I did to Katsudon in Hasetsu,” Yuri said. “For beating me in the dance battle.” 

Victor turned slowly around. 

Yuri grimaced: “Only now I know he didn’t even remember it!”

“Clearly you don’t need a reason to be cruel to people,” Victor said, calm and cool and everything Yuri despised at that moment.

“Tsch. He didn’t remember _you_ either,” Yuri said. “That’s why he acted so damn different. He didn’t remember anything. You just show up out of nowhere and say you’re going to coach him? Stick your dick in his face? No wonder he flipped his shit.” 

Victor stayed silent. It was clear he’d come to the beach contemplating exactly that.

“He must have thought you were crazy.” Yuri didn’t know why he was so angry about it, but he clenched his fists at his side. “You take the entire season off when you could have been competing against me or coaching me and instead you got suckered into —“ 

Yuri stopped as Victor grabbed his chin, two of his nails digging into the softness of Yuri’s throat. Yuri wanted to fight, to rip at Victor, but the gesture left him frozen the same way Victor’s teeth did when Yuri was in rut.

“Is this how you’re competing with me instead?” Victor asked, his voice still calm and unaffected. Yuri’s bloodlust skyrocketed, eyes little pinpricks.

“The ring you got from that pig is garbage,” Yuri hissed. It was the only way he knew to hurt Victor, immobilized as he was. “He said it was a gift. That’s it. He still doesn’t remember, and he’s not going to win gold for you.” Yuri tried to wrench his chin away, but Victor’s grip was like stone. “I’ll beat him just to prove you wasted your time.”

He hit at Victor’s wrist and Victor finally let him go. The two stared, both bristling, and Yuri hated that he couldn’t control his growl, but Victor somehow did.

“One day,” Victor murmured, “you’ll find someone your time is never wasted with.” And he turned back to face the sea. 

— 

Fuck that guy. 

Yuri couldn’t stop thinking about it, still had it in his head in the changing room. He saw a flash of Otabek’s bare skin as he kicked out of his clothes. He tugged on his dance belt, hoping it would hide the way he twitched. Yuuri was in the far corner, eyes closed, music in his ears, holding still while Victor zipped him into his costume. 

Everyone had noticed their rings. How couldn’t they, the way Victor and Yuuri were flaunting them? But Yuuri kept insisting they were just for good luck. Every reporter. Every interview. 

Once again, those assholes had figured out a way to take the spotlight from Yuri. 

He’d fucking show them. 

— 

They took to the ice for warm-up. The ice muted all the smells, dampened their noses, calmed the four ferals and their two oblivious betnik counterparts. Two betas, two omegas, an alpha, and… Yuuri. 

Yuuri was up first. 

Yuri sneered as Victor kissed Yuuri’s ring, bowed over it like he was enslaved. He kissed his own, after, when Yuuri stood at the center of the ice. 

He was going to fail. 

Yuri tucked his earbuds back in. It didn’t matter. Whatever Yuuri did, however he performed, Yuri would beat him. Yuri would beat _Victor_.

He felt the energy of his rut, held back beneath a thin, fragile layer of glass: a single pill that stood between him and mindlessness. It was terrifying, knowing how close he was to oblivion, and terrifying, too, to know that as soon as those pills wore off his normal rut would hit tenfold.

Yuri saw Lilia’s lips move, shaping his name, and Yuri went to her. He shrugged his jacket off, stepped out of his track pants. 

The last thing were his earbuds, music falling away and replaced by the cheering crowd. Yuri didn’t understand anything Yakov or Lilia were saying to him. 

He stalked to the kiss and cry and slammed his skate against the bench Victor and Yuuri still occupied, despite Phichit having finished. Enough of them. _Enough_. He didn’t want to know anything more about them, about their rings, about their love. 

Yuri flew onto the ice, his arms raised in greeting, and all he could hear was Victor’s voice in his head: 

_someone your time is never wasted with_ …


	27. Yuuri: Fairy Tale

Yuuri failed. 

He wanted to beat his fists, but he’d learned a long time ago that the ice didn’t yield. Instead he bowed his head over it, pressing his forehead against the ice until it hurt. 

He should expected failure, at this point. There was no way he would get gold with a score like that. No way he would live up to Victor. 

Yuuri could barely talk to the press, especially once Yuri’s short program started. One by one, everyone in the room turned to stare at the monitor. Yuri had taken Victor’s choreography and claimed it as his own. He took risky entrances into his jumps, added difficult flourishes. His technical skill was unparalleled. Yuuri wondered what Victor thou— 

Where was Victor?

Oblivious to the ongoing state of his interview, Yuuri walked back out to the rink. Victor was leaning on the rail, watching Yuri’s inhuman jumps. His eyes were half-lidded, a rare solemnity in the corners of his lips. 

The entire audience erupted at the end of Yuri’s performance. Yuuri hovered until the score was announced. Their furious ice tiger hadn’t just gotten a personal best: he’d beaten Victor. He’d broken Victor’s world record. 

Victor’s lips parted, just a slight space between them: surprise and… 

Was that regret? 

Yuuri berated himself. Of course it was regret. What else would it be? Yuuri’s performance had been abysmal compared to the others: compared to Phichit’s magnificent and flawless skate, to Yuri’s world-record one. 

And that was just the bottom half of the roster. 

“Yuuri?” Victor asked. 

“Oh - I -… I was curious too,” Yuuri mumbled. 

“Come on,” Victor said. “Let’s watch Chris.” 

— 

Chris’ performance was everything Yuuri adored about him: his proud sexuality, his seductive prowess. Anyone with a nose would see it as a presentation: offering himself to the audience for the taking. Even the betas blushed, and they didn’t know the half of it. Yuuri wondered if anyone in the rink besides he and Victor had actually gotten to act on that presentation.

Victor… Yuuri studied Victor’s face. His expression was so wistful, longing, the soft smile of remembering happier times.

It would have been different, wouldn’t it? If Yuuri hadn’t come along. Victor would be on the ice, competing, thriving. He could have topped Yuri on the leaderboard, taken back his record in a day. Victor and Chris could have been with each other for their cycles. They wouldn’t have had to worry about bites or growls. 

Yuuri stared down at his lap, at the gold ring on his finger. 

He couldn’t wait until the end of the competition. He couldn’t take it any more. He had to let Victor go. 

— 

It didn’t happen at the rink. There was too much going on. Minako and Mari telling him the free skate was what mattered. Interviewers asking about his plan for the free skate. 

His only plan was to survive the night. 

They returned to the hotel. The other skaters continued to explore the city, but for Victor and Yuuri, dinner was a private affair, mostly silence and small talk. No matter how hard Yuuri tried to force himself, nothing came out, and by the end they were both resorted to quiet texting. 

_I loved your performance_ , Yuuri sent Chris. 

_well now you know the inspiration :*_

Yuuri’s eyes darted to Victor. Of course Victor could drive anyone crazy. Could inspire anyone to those sultry levels of sexuality. Yuuri had another gut-wrenching realization about his selfishness. He’d taken Victor away from Chris, too. Chris, Russia, the world. 

Then they were back in their room: where Victor had marked, where they’d pushed the two single beds up against each other, where Yuuri had spun in little circles until the plush covers were like a nest around him. 

Yuuri showered first, then sat on the edge of the bed, listening to Victor take his turn. This was the right thing to do. However much it hurt, Victor belonged on the ice, and as long as Yuuri was still skating he couldn’t return. 

“You’ve been wanting to talk about something, haven’t you?” Victor asked as he came out, toweling his hair. 

“How did you know?” Yuuri blinked. 

Victor tapped his nose, even though that was silly; Yuuri had never been able to scent something like that. At the idea of his nose, though, Victor reached between the folds of his robe. 

This was usually when he marked Yuuri, right after he’d cleaned, when Yuuri was fresh from the shower.. 

“W-wait,” Yuuri said. “We should - we should talk first.” 

Victor frowned, sitting down across from Yuuri. “What is it?”

Yuuri took a breath, hands rolling into fists on his thighs. His mind went blank, half-serene, like he was on the ice: “After the final, let’s end this.” 

He saw Victor’s whole body twitch in recoil: “Huh?”

Yuuri kept his voice even, steady. “You’ve done more than enough for me, Victor. Thanks to you, I was able to give everything I had to my last season.”

He bowed to Victor, a formality in his voice they hadn’t used since the very beginning of Victor’s time in Hasetsu. 

“Thank you for everything, Victor,” Yuuri murmured. “Thank you for being my coach.”

He stayed in his bow until a fleck of light twinkled down, splashing on Victor’s slippered feet. He looked up, saw a trim of tears in Victor’s eyes, catching on his latches and dripping down. 

“V-Victor?” 

“Wow…” was all Victor managed, “… then it’s over?”

Yuuri frowned, nodded. “After the final, I’m retiring.” 

The pace of Victor’s tears accelerated, no longer individual drops but streams down his cheeks.

“Victor?” Yuuri asked, reaching to brush the hair from Victor’s eyes, caught in the stickiness of his tears. 

A low growl rose in Victor’s throat. Yuuri froze in place. He didn’t have any of Victor’s scent on him, was past his heat and shifting towards his alpha phase. He was in Victor’s territory, Victor’s room, and despite trusting Victor with his life Yuuri felt a prickle of fear on the back of his neck.

Victor didn’t apologize for the growl this time, just let it fade away as Yuuri dropped his hand. 

“Y-you were the one who said it was just until the Final,” Yuri said. 

“And you said you wanted me to coach you until you retired!” 

“I’m retiring now! So you can make your comeback!” 

Victor pawed at his cheeks, scrubbing away the wet. He lashed out, grabbing Yuuri’s shoulders: “How can you ask me to go back to the ice when you’re saying you’re leaving?!”

“Victor —!” 

“Get out!” Victor snarled.

Yuuri’s eyes went wide. He tried to wiggle out from Victor’s grip. The scent off Victor made him want to run. To run and to run and Yuuri grabbed his phone and jacket and darted out of the room.

—

“Yuuri? What happened?”

“Can I - uhm - can I stay with you?”

It should have been Phichit, but there was too much Phichit didn’t know, dynamics Yuuri didn’t have the heart to explain. How do you tell a beta what it feels like, when the scent of the person you love suddenly warps into a threat?

“Yeah - of course, come on in. Are you okay?” 

Chris’ room wasn’t marked. The scent holders were empty, though he’d swirled his blankets into a bit of a nest on the bed and made it his own. Some scent hovered around the closet, where his short program outfit hung to air out. Compared to Victor’s roiling pheromones the calm, grounding omega smell was that much more reassuring.

Yuuri had a cup of chamomile tea in his hands almost before it could register, and then Chris sat him in one of the hotel chairs.

“I said he should make his comeback,” Yuuri explained, rubbing his finger back and forth on the side of the mug. 

“Yeah?” Chris prompted. He sat on the bed across from Yuuri.

“The way he looked when he watched you… and Yuri, and Otabek…” Yuuri stared into the mug. “He needs to go back. He belongs on the ice.”

“What happened?” Chris asked. 

“He —… he told me to get out,” Yuuri whispered. “He growled. Maybe his hormones spiked but it was - it was more like bloodlust than…”

“That doesn’t sound like Victor,” Chris frowned. 

Chris’ phone buzzed on his nightstand. They exchanged a look, both knowing who it was. 

“You should… ah… he’s your friend,” Yuuri said, looking away. “I’ll just… I can just sleep on the floor.” 

“Yuuri,” Chris leaned forward, taking Yuuri’s hand. “ _You’re_ my friend, too. You can sleep in the bed. There’s more than enough room.” Before he picked up his phone he gave a sniff and frowned.

“He didn’t mark you?” 

“Oh.. I …” Yuuri chewed on his lip. “We didn’t…” Yuuri sipped at his mug, and Chris let him be.

The heat felt good in his stomach, though it didn’t stop the tremble of his fingertips. He’d never seen Victor cry; couldn’t get it out of his head. He sat numbly in the chair as Chris tapped on his phone one-handed, the other rubbing the back of Yuuri’s hand.

“You broke up with him…” Chris whispered.

Yuuri winced. “He can’t make his comeback if he’s stuck coaching me,” Yuuri whispered. “It was the only way to… to set him free.”

Chris frowned: “After the rings?” 

Yuuri’s eyes darted to the gold. “I knew… I knew I had to let him go so I — I wanted something I could remember him by. I saw the rings and thought— maybe he’d remember me, too.”

“Yuuri…” 

Chris sounded so _disappointed_. 

“I know it’s dumb! A-And you were right about keeping him from everyone, and I don’t even deserve that, and —“ 

“Stop,” Chris said, little more than a whisper. “Stop.” Yuuri swallowed. Chris took a breath, set down his phone, and pat the place next to him on the bed. “Come here.” Yuuri’a hands were little fists again as he set down the mug and took his seat. Chris rubbed his back. “Ok. Let me tell you a story.”

Yuuri glanced up at Chris, brow furrowed. 

“Once upon a time there was a world famous figure skater. He had won every championship, too many times to count, and everyone thought he was the most talented and impressive skater in recent history.” 

Yuuri snorted. “He is.” 

“But he was unhappy,” Chris said. “Winning used to thrill him, but after his fifth time around it just wasn’t the same. He put on a smile, because he always did, but the few people who knew him saw that his spark was gone.”

“What?”

Chris cocked his brow at Yuuri, like ‘see, you didn’t know, did you?’ and then continued: “Then there was a banquet, and all the figure skaters and all the top competitors got together to eat and celebrate. The Champion had his false smile on, but then something caught his eye. Another competitor hadn’t done as well as he’d hoped and drank champagne to cope. The champagne transformed him into a beautiful, beguiling seductress.” 

Yuuri’s cheeks went red hot. 

“No one had ever seen anything like the Seductress before. He had this…” Chris looked at Yuuri, like sizing him up, “this _aura_ about him. This way of drawing you in. The junior champion got sucked in first, because he was fiery and needed to prove himself. The Seductress danced with him, and the junior champion lost himself to the Seductress’ wiles. He vowed that he would get revenge, no matter what it took, but didn’t recognize his anger for the passion it was.”

“Yurio…” 

Chris gave a small smile. “Next was the Champion’s friend. He’d mated with the Seductress before, but never would have recognized him after this transformation. When he watched the Seductress dance, all he wanted was to dance alongside him. It started as a battle, but neither of them wanted to fight. They wound up dancing for everyone else, making a show of their bodies, puffing and preening and presenting for each other and for the Champion who watched in rapt fascination.”

Yuuri leaned on Chris, and Chris pulled him close and continued.

“The Champion’s friend —“ 

“He doesn’t get a title?” 

Chris gave a sad sort of snort: “He’s always been second to the Champion.”

“Well… what if we call him the Prince then?” Yuuri chewed his lip, glancing up at Chris through his lashes. 

“The Prince,” Chris corrected, “was so inspired by the Seductress, so enamored, that he vowed to memorialize the encounter on the ice.”

Yuuri’s breath hitched. “I — I thought it was for Victor.” 

“No, darling,” Chris sighed. “It’s called _intoxicated_ , of course it was about you.” Chris rubbed his hand up and down Yuuri’s arm. Yuuri’s mind was already stumbling. He couldn’t stop tapping his finger on his leg, and if Chris hadn’t been holding him he would probably have been on the floor. 

“But whatever the Prince felt, it was nothing compared to the Champion,” Chris continued. “The Champion had never met anyone like the Seductress. The Seductress danced with him, led him across the floor, and the Champion laughed and smiled like no one had seen him before. Something about the Seductress lifted the weight on the Champion’s shoulders, reigniting his spark.

“At the end of the night, the Seductress went to the Champion and grabbed his waist, begging the Champion to go to the Seductress’ homeland and become his coach.”

“What?!” Yuuri gasped. “N-N-no!”

“If you ask the Prince, he’ll say that’s when Vict— when the Champion fell in love.” 

“I asked him to - to -“ Yuuri didn’t even know how to finish. 

“That night, the Champion swore to the Prince that he would marry the Seductress,” Chris continued. 

“What?” Yuuri whispered. 

“He vowed to go wherever the Seductress asked. The Prince had never seen the Champion so happy. But the next day, when the Champion asked the Seductress for a photo - something to tide him over until the end of the season - the Seductress just stared at him, and said nothing, and walked away.”

Yuuri clasped his hand over his mouth. 

“The Champion’s heart shattered.” 

“No,” Yuuri said again. “I didn’t — I thought — ”

“The Champion fell into darkness,” Chris continued. “He didn’t want to retire, but his spark was gone and his love had rejected him. But then, after the final competition of the season, the Champion discovered a message from the Seductress.”

“What?”

“The Seductress had sent a video, dancing the Champion’s choreography. The Champion sent the Prince So. Many. Text Messages about it. The Seductress had changed his mind! The Champion bought the next tickets he could, traveling across the world to be with the one he’d fallen in love with.” 

Yuuri felt his heart sink. “That… that wasn’t me… that was…” 

“When the Champion arrived, he thought the Seductress was playing coy with him.”

Yuuri realized his hands were wet. When had he started crying? 

“For months and months the Champion fought for the Seductress’ heart. The Seductress was very different than the Champion remembered, but the Champion’s love was resilient and strong. He choreographed a dance for the Seductress to try and evoke the night at the banquet. He went around naked trying to get the Seductress’ attention.”

Images flashed through Yuuri’s head. Memories in a brand new light.

“When the Champion thought his love was an omega, he vowed to find the alpha whose scent was all over the Seductress, and when the Champion thought his love was an alpha, that idiot went out and bought a knotted dildo, even though the Prince told him it was a _terrible idea_ , because he’d vowed to be there when the Seductress needed him.” 

Yuuri didn’t know whether to laugh or cry and wound up choking some gross mix of the two, snorting as he sobbed. He turned his face into Chris’ shoulder and broke down, and Chris just held him, chin tucked over Yuuri’s head. 

“It’s okay. It’s okay, darling,” Chris whispered. “He loves you so, so much.”


	28. Chris: In the Middle

Chris wasn’t sure how long he held Yuuri Katsuki as he cried.

“I have to let him go,” Yuuri gasped into Chris’ neck. “I have to let him go. He needs the ice. He needs —” Yuuri hiccuped on his tears. 

Chris brushed his fingers through Yuuri’s hair, doing the same soft pet along Yuuri’s nape that he’d used for Victor. 

He wanted to continue the story, tell Yuuri all about the Champion’s attempts to seduce and play: about Onsen on Ice, about late night knot phone calls, or how the Champion never stopped wanting to marry him. 

But Chris couldn’t be the one to tell him that. 

He wasn’t sure if Yuuri was even awake after awhile. He’d been slumped in Chris’ arms, still and silent, for a quarter of an hour, tears drying, breath evening out. Chris reached for his phone with his free hand, mindful of Yuuri, and re-read Victor’s texts. 

_It’s over_   
_He called it off_

Since then, it was simply:

_I don’t understand_

When Chris was certain Yuuri was asleep, he laid the exhausted skater down. Yuuri stirred briefly as Chris was taking off his socks and shoes, just enough to kick off his pants before he curled up on his side in briefs and t-shirt. 

Chris got up to turn off the lights, then nearly had a heart-attack as someone knocked right as he was nearing the switch.

Victor looked ragged and smelled like bloodlust. Chris’ gut reaction was fear, but Victor’s eyes were red-rimmed and he didn’t lurch or attack when he saw him. Chris forced down the instinct but couldn’t prevent slight lift in his shoulders, guarding his neck. 

“Can I sleep here ton—“ Victor paused and opened his mouth, taking a breath. “… He’s here.” Another wave of bloodlust, a pained wince on Victor’s face that made Chris’ heart twist.

“He didn’t know where else to go,” Chris murmured. He stepped outside, closing the door behind him, cutting off Victor’s gaze as he tried to peer into the room. “I told him he could stay.”

Victor let out a noise, half whimper, half growl. He shook his head, like trying to escape a bad dream, and stumbled back down the hall. 

“Victor!” Chris called after him, but Victor didn’t respond, and Chris, for once, didn’t chase him. 

— 

When Chris laid beside Yuuri, Yuuri gently pawed at him, then burrowed into his arms. 

“You should have seen the way he watched you today,” Yuuri whispered. “How much he wanted to be on the ice with you…” 

Chris’s thumb smoothed back and forth over Yuuri’s neck, silently listening to Yuuri’s drowsy whimpers. 

“You want him back, too, don’t you?” 

— 

In the morning, Chris woke up with Yuuri still holding onto him, nose nestled near Chris’ neck, breathing in his omega’s scent from the source. They’d evolved to calm alphas, to satisfy their hormonal impulses, and if it was helping Yuuri at all Chris was happy to provide that comfort. 

He stayed still until he couldn’t put it off any longer, then carefully untangled himself. He managed not to wake Yuuri until he was washed, dressed, and at the door. 

“Chris?” Yuuri murmured as he heard it open. 

“I need to practice,” Chris said. “Stay as long as you need.” 

— 

_did you get any sleep_ Chris texted in the locker room, towel around his shoulders. Yuuri had never shown up for the practice session. 

_Did Yuuri?_

That didn’t bode well. _meet me at the rink?_

Again, Victor didn’t respond, but he was there when Chris came out, politely smiling and signing autographs. He must have doused himself in a descenter before he left; Chris couldn’t smell anything, even Victor’s normal pheromones.

“Where’s Yuuri Katsuki? He wasn’t at practice this morning,” the cameras asked, and Victor gave them such a beautiful smile you’d never know anything was wrong. 

“We’ve decided rest is best for him today,” Victor said. “I’m sure he’ll be touched to know everyone’s concerned for him. Ah - if you’ll excuse me.” And he expertly wove his way to Chris. 

The two walked away from the rink, away from the hotel, away, away, away until they had their freedom to talk. 

“The hotel’s booked,” Chris said. “He didn’t have anywhere else to go.”

“I know.”

Chris was surprised. Victor didn’t seem mad about it. 

“I just don’t understand how he could do that to me,” Victor whispered. 

Chris tried not saying anything, and Victor continued: 

“Why - why would he do that? Break up with me and then tell me to make a comeback?” 

“Do you _want_ to go back on the ice?” 

“I _want_ to marry Katsuki Yuuri!” 

Chris elbowed Victor. “I’m serious. Do you want to go back on the ice? Was this just a break or are you done?”

Victor frowned. 

“You miss it, right?” Chris said. 

“Well…” 

“Yuri breaks your world record and that doesn’t bother you? You don’t want to get it back?” 

Victor swallowed, swiping a hand through his hair. “…If Yuuri’s not on the ice, what’s the point?”

“You need to figure out what you want. _You_ , Victor, not you-and-Yuuri,” Chris said. “You can’t put all of that weight on him.”

“He put it on me. Ending his career for mine,” Victor frowned. 

“Look, I’m only one person,” Chris said. “I can’t beat sense into both of you at the same time. Not when you aren’t speaking to each other.” 

“We’re not — we’re not _not_ speaking,” Victor said. “We just… haven’t spoken.”

Chris took a deep breath: “Maybe that’s something you should do.”

“I was worried I would hurt him,” Victor murmured. 

“Bloodlust?”

A nod.

“Okay…” Chris said. “What if I’m there?” 

“Huh?”

“You both calm down around my scent. We could do it in my room. It isn’t marked. It doesn’t belong to either of you.”

He glanced over just long enough to see Victor flush. “… Are you sure?” 

Chris shrugged. “I was going to talk dirty to you about Yuuri so you could get a dildo up your ass. I think I’m pretty invested at this point.” 

— 

When they went back to the hotel, Chris found Yuuri still curled up in his bed, watching videos. They’d agreed Chris would talk first, and Victor would only join them if he was invited. 

“Ah. I liked that performance,” Chris said as he came to the bed and sat behind Yuuri, rubbing his side. “I was so sad when he cut off his hair.” 

“Why did he do it?”

“You know how he is. Always reinventing himself. He had to surprise people - do what no one would expect.” 

Yuuri rolled onto his back, looking up at Chris. “What do you think he’ll do this year?” 

“Surprise us both, I’m sure,” Chris smiled. “Do what no one’s expecting.” 

Yuuri’s smile was so soft and so sad. “I bet he will.” 

Chris let the sentiment settle, continuing to brush Yuuri’s side. When Yuuri’s eyes flit back to his phone, Chris cleared his throat. “He wants to talk to you, if you’re up for it.”

“He hasn’t texted…” 

“In person. He was worried about bloodlust, but I told him I could be here, if you didn’t mind. Just in case anything gets… too intense.”

“Oh…” Yuuri sat up, leaned against Chris.

“Only if you want,” Chris said. “You’re welcome to stay here either way.”

Yuuri nodded against Chris’ bicep. “Okay.”

—

Chris propped the door open and then returned to the bed with Yuuri, texting Victor to come over. When he arrived, he stood in the doorway, sniffing the air, and then closed it as he came inside. 

He looked at Yuuri and Chris on the bed, obe and omega. Chris’ scent subdued the flare of emotion Yuuri evoked. 

“Victor, I didn’t know,” Yuuri started, and Victor stepped cautiously towards the bed. “I didn’t remember anything.”

“I know,” Victor said. 

Yuuri moved from behind Chris, but Victor’s lip curled, a soft growl in his throat, and Yuuri was returning it before he knew what was happening. 

“Hey - easy, easy, both of you,” Chris said, sliding off the bed to stand between them. He put his hand on Victor’s waist, the other on Yuuri’s shoulder. “Easy. You love each other. It’s OK.”

“He hurt me,” Victor whispered when he’d calmed down.

“Yeah,” Chris said. “Come here, and we’ll talk about it.” He pushed Yuuri back until they could all sit on the bed, Chris in the middle. Victor was rubbing the side of his nose, like trying to dislodge a scent, and Chris reached for the scent-eaters on the nightstand. “Here, baby.” 

Victor took the heavy tissue, holding it up against his nose. 

“OK?” Chris asked, petting Victor’s hair, sliding his fingers down his back. Victor’s eyes still looked red, but he nodded. 

“I don’t want to end it,” Victor said. “At the airport… then the rings… you practically proposed to me, Yuuri Katsuki. Twice.”

Chris smelled the wave off of Yuuri: embarrassment and shame and surprise. Chris reached back, touching Yuuri’s nape, and Yuuri melted towards him. 

“I… wanted to be with you,” Yuuri said. “But… it’s not you if you’re not on the ice. And as long as you’re with me…” 

Victor swallowed. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.” 

“You won’t be happy.”

“I won’t be heartbroken.” 

“Easy,” Chris soothed again as their volumes elevated, as Victor moved closer. Chris turned his back on Victor, made sure his neck was visible as Victor growled. Yuuri climbed into Chris’ lap, as close as he could be to Victor with Chris still between them. 

Victor rubbed the scent eater on his neck, then his wrists, then discarded it. He held up his empty hands. “Yuuri,” he begged. “Please.”

Yuuri’s shiver traveled through Chris. He felt it against his chest and hugged Yuuri close, kissed his cheek in reassurance. “It’s OK.” 

“Say you’ll think about it,” Victor whimpered. “Say you’ll decide after the final. Please.” 

This wasn’t going where Chris had hoped. They weren’t talking about how they actually felt, what they actually wanted, how they could make it happen. Victor’s hormones were still spiking, Yuuri was still painfully self-sacrificial. 

“Okay,” Yuuri murmured at last. “I’ll decide after the final.” 

Victor exhaled.

“You decide too,” Yuuri said. 

Victor chewed on his lip and reached out the hand with the ring. Yuuri brushed their fingertips together, then laced their fingers. Victor squeezed, whispered: “I promise.”


	29. Victor: Horizons

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought maybe there was a way in hell I could actually wrap this all up in 50k. 
> 
> There was no way in hell.

Victor woke up warm, curled up in Chris’ scent, Yuuri’s right hand holding his left. He kissed Chris’ neck, then lifted Yuuri’s hand to his lips and kissed the ring there. Both stirred, but neither woke. Yuuri burrowed closer to Chris, snuggling deeper into Chris’ side, and Chris moved his now-Victor-less other arm to envelope Yuuri fully. 

Victor spent a long moment watching them, emotions bubbling beneath his sternum, and then he rose. 

His and Yuuri’s room felt empty and cold by comparison, the scent-holders stale, and Victor suddenly without the drive to refill them. He showered, dressed, and took the little ring box out of his jacket pocket, setting it on the nightstand. 

What would happen if Yuuri won gold? Would Yuuri, what, retire and move to St. Petersburg? Marry Victor and work with the kids’ courses at the rink or use his major in — what did Yuuri major in? 

Admittedly, Victor couldn’t stop the way that idea pulled at his lips, but then… what would Victor do? How could Victor compete without Yuuri? 

But he had to decide on his own. That’s what Chris said. Because if he didn’t, he was just forcing Yuuri to choose for him, and they already knew how that played out. 

Victor didn’t want that ending, the one where Yuuri wasn’t beside him. 

— 

Yuuri came to the room already showered, wearing one of the hotel robes, and stayed only long enough to grab his gear and fresh clothes. Victor waited outside. They walked in silence to the rink, the few feet they kept between them vast as galaxies. At least Victor was no longer quite so sensitive to Yuuri’s scent. Sleeping in Chris’ bed had calmed him, calmed both of them, but there was still the looming question of their futures. 

Last time Yuuri had been on the rut side of his cycle, they hadn’t been sharing rooms. Hadn’t been constantly all over each other. They’d spent most of it on the ice or across from each other eating dinner. Victor hadn’t _claimed_ Yuuri and then had to release him. 

Victor leaned in the corner of the locker room, watching Yuuri try to tug the zipper up by himself. He had one hand behind his back, the other reaching awkwardly over his shoulder, but there was a handspan where they just couldn’t quite overlap. 

“Yuuri…” Victor whispered.

“I can do it,” Yuuri said. 

Yuuri grimaced, stretching, and Victor finally stepped forward, hand on the back of Yuuri’s neck, pinching. It made Yuuri freeze for the split second it took to draw the zip up. As soon as Victor let go, Yuuri turned on him, teeth flashing. Victor just held up his hands. 

“I can’t have you hurt yourself,” Victor said. “You can’t win your gold medal with a pulled shoulder.”

Yuuri flushed.

“Come on,” Victor said. “It’s time.”

“Wait,” Yuuri said. “If this is - if this is my last time on the ice - I want…”

Victor lifted his brow. 

“I want to have more than just the ring to remind me of you.”

— 

Yuuri and Victor weren’t very good at talking to one another. That’s what Chris said, at least, and after the past nine months Victor was more than inclined to believe him. 

But Victor hadn’t fallen in love with Yuuri because of his ability to use words. He’d fallen in love with Yuuri because when Yuuri moved, they didn’t _need_ words. He watched Yuuri Katsuki sail onto the ice, trailing Victor’s freshly-marked scent in his wake, and give the greatest performance of his career. 

The ache in Victor’s chest held multitudes: pride at his pupil’s accomplishment, adoration for a fellow skater’s work, infatuation to see the love of his life move like magic. Then, sitting next to him, scenting him and his sweat and his tearful expectation— 

“-has beaten Victor Nikiforov’s long-standing world record for the Men’s Free Skate.” 

—The vivid inspiration, as a rival, to return to the ice and take back what belonged to him. 

“There’s no greater honor, as your coach, than to have you break my record,” Victor whispered near Yuuri’s ear. “And no greater insult as your competitor.” 

Yuuri’s eyes lit up, grasping onto Victor. “You’ll make your comeback?” 

“Mmm,” Victor gave a nod. “You know I like to keep what I’ve marked.” 

Yuuri’s cheeks burned, but his smile was unwavering. 

“And you?” Victor asked.

A flush of pheromones. Instead of bloodlust, these made Victor want to protect and take care of his mate. Sadness. Anxiety. Yuuri was still heartbroken over his decision. “I don’t know yet,” he whispered. 

“If you need to talk, Chris can — Chris!” Victor gasped as he realized they’d missed the start of his performance. He cast a glare in their direction as he took off around the rink, building his speed for a jump. It came in under-rotated, and Victor cupped his hands around his mouth. 

“DAVAI!” Victor shouted. “ALLEZ!” 

“ALLEZ, CHRIS!” Yuuri joined him. 

Chris’ cheeks flushed and he refocused. Victor set his hand on Yuuri’s back, watching, but even the combination in the second half couldn’t pull up Chris’ score. Victor stayed just long enough to watch Chris’ eyes fall when his score was announced, then went back into the halls with his decision.

— 

“Yakov!” Victor called when he found him. “Yakov, I have news.” 

“Not now, Victor,” Yakov growled. “Yuri’s up next! Can’t you —“ 

“I’m coming back,” Victor said. 

“What!?” 

“I’ll time my return with Russian Nationals,” Victor said. Yuri had pulled out his earphones. He grabbed Victor. 

“Does this mean katsudon’s retiring?” Yuri asked, and Victor was surprised to hear desperation in his voice. Victor stared at the young alpha, fifteen years old and such expectation on his shoulders. 

Victor almost felt bad, adding his own. 

“He said he’d decide after the competition was over,” Victor said, and he clutched Yuri into the tightest hug.

Yuri was too deep on his blockers to even growl.

— 

Victor found Chris in the bathroom, or rather, he recognized Chris’ scent as he went in there himself, tucking into a stall so no one would see him cry. If Yuri didn’t beat him. If Yuri couldn’t stop him. 

Victor sniffed and Chris held a wad of toilet paper under the divider for him. 

He gave a half-choked laugh. 

“Thanks.”

“Figure someone else should have a turn,” Chris said, and Victor realized how gravelly the Swiss’ voice was. He’d been crying, too. 

“I never see you cry,” Victor whispered. 

“Still haven’t,” Chris gave a wet scoff. “Don’t even know it’s me.” 

“No one smells like you. Especially not after a performance.”

Chris snorted, sniffled. “Well fuck, baby, what are we doing here?” 

“Well,” Victor swallowed. “My uh… my future husband’s going to leave figure skating forever unless Yuri pulls together a near perfect performance, so, uh.” Victor swallowed, scrubbing his eyes with the toilet paper. “You know. You?”

“Well, I’m madly in love with my best friend and his future husband and no matter how I fucking try to help them they insist on being idiots. The one thing I wanted to do was impress them with my skating and that failed too, so.” It felt like Victor’s heart was a tire and someone had just kicked it off the side of a cliff. “You know.” 

“Chris —“ 

“Never mind,” Chris cleared his throat. “Forget it, forget it. I’m just upset I didn’t make the podium. I didn’t mean it.” Victor tried to scramble as he heard a flush and the whine of stall hinges, but by the time he’d fumbled open his own stall the bathroom door was already swinging. Victor ran towards it, only to have a stranger walk in and blink at him.

“Sorry,” Victor said, grateful for his automatic smile.

Victor turned to the sink, splashing his face with water. He pulled out his phone as it buzzed. 

_yuri beat him_  
 _.12 points_

— 

Victor watched the podium ceremony from the rink’s edge. Chris was gone, neither his coach nor choreographer anywhere to be seen, and when Victor texted him, he didn’t even get read receipts. 

“It’s not a gold medal, but…” Yuuri said as he came off the ice, holding out his silver. 

Victor let out a soft breath: “How are we supposed to get married if it isn’t gold?” His eyes flashed open, smiling slow: “Man, I really wanted to marry Yuuri Katsuki. I bought him an engagement ring and everything. I really failed as a coach.” He stepped towards Yuuri, until he had him pinned against the rink wall. “What should I do, Yuuri? Any suggestions? Something that’ll excite me?”

He watched the familiar red tinge wash over Yuuri’s cheeks. 

“There. What was that?” Victor grinned. “What were you thinking just then?”

“Well —“ Yuuri gulped, then seemed to regain his confidence. He grabbed Victor’s shoulders, then pushed him back, over, the medal falling carelessly aside. Victor found himself sitting on his ass, Yuuri embracing him, and now it was his turn to be red-cheeked. “Victor! Please stay with me in figure skating for one more year! This time, I’ll win gold for sure!”

When Yuuri pulled back, the determination in his eyes was enough to make Victor swoon. He let out a gasp of delight. “Yes! Great!” He laughed, grinning up at his fiancé: “But keep going!”

“Huh!?”

Victor scooped up the silver medal from where it fell, tenderly draping it back over Yuuri’s neck. “Even _I’m_ worried about making a full comeback if I’m also staying on as your coach.” He cocked his head. “In exchange, I’ll need you to become - oh, five time world champion, at least.”

Yuuri laughed, and cried, and held his silver medal as he gazed at Victor. 

“Do you think our love can inspire you for that long?” Victor asked, his voice softer, brushing away Yuuri’s tears. 

“Forever.”


	30. Yuuri: Piece by Piece

Yuuri and Victor stumbled back into their hotel room, gorging on each other, breathless kisses interspersed with playful growls. Yuuri’s neck was covered in little red marks, and Victor’s teeth on his throat were driving him crazy with both kinds of lust.

They wound up tumbling onto the bed, wrestling as much as they were preparing for intimacy. But clothes gave way, eventually, and Victor’s teeth drew blood, and Yuuri went still beneath him and spread his legs and rode the sensation inside of him. 

It wasn’t until they were tied that Yuuri saw the tiny box on the nightstand. 

“What’s…?” He reached for it, opened it before Victor could grab it, and saw the ring inside. His pulse rushed. He remembered Chris: _the Champion swore he would marry the Seductress._

“I told you,” Victor whispered, licking at the wound he’d left on Yuuri’s neck. Every brush of Victor’s tongue made Yuuri shiver, but nothing as much as that gold ring. “You just beat me to the proposal.” 

“You were — you were going to marry me?”

“I still am, aren’t I?” Victor breathed over his neck. “But I’d been meaning to ask you, yes.” He put his forehead on Yuuri’s shoulder, hiding. “I had it all planned out. Chris was going to film it from afar. He even helped pick out the ring. He —” Victor’s voice cut off. 

“Victor?” Yuuri asked. 

Victor tugged on his cock, but his knot was completely buried in Yuuri. The tug made Yuuri growl. This wasn’t a conversation Victor really wanted to have while he was tied. 

“Chris knew exactly what you’d like,” Victor murmured. “He… he helped me figure out how to ask, and he got me to talk to you when things were rough. I got so scared when I smelled you and wanted to attack instead of…” Victor shook his head. “If it weren’t for his help…” 

Yuuri looked back over his shoulder. He wanted to shift positions but the last time he’d moved it had set them both off, and now he had another bite mark on his shoulder. It wouldn’t have happened if they’d been in Chris’ room, curled up with him. “He’s wonderful,” Yuuri whispered.

“Yeah.”

— 

_We missed you after the medal ceremony_ , Yuuri texted Chris that night, post-coital Victor exhausted and fast asleep.   
_We should get churros tomorrow after the exhibition!_  
 _Celebrate before the banquet?_

_I think I’m engaged_ , he texted Phichit, and he got so caught up texting with his friend that he never realized Chris didn’t respond. 

— 

“Yuuuri,” Victor whined when he woke up. “I want to tie with you again.”

“We have time,” Yuuri said through the thrill of having Victor declare, so openly, that he wanted Yuuri. 

“I can’t mark you up any more before the exhibition,” Victor said. “Your makeup’s already going to have to be so thick.” 

Yuuri frowned in thought, touching the raised skin on his neck. 

“I have an idea,” Yuuri beamed. “A way you won’t bite.” 

Victor cocked his head. “A muzzle?”

“We could invite Chris,” Yuuri said. “We should thank him anyway.”

“… have sex with Chris?” Victor asked. 

“I… I think he’d like it, don’t you? And we already mated,” Yuuri blushed. “I mean - didn’t you and he…?” 

“A few times.” 

Yuuri grinned. “Then — let’s go to his room! Surprise him?” Yuuri didn’t understand why Victor looked so shy. Yuuri was still high on the thrill of their reunion, and he couldn’t deny how he’d missed Chris. He pulled on his robe, darting out of the hotel room before he could change his mind or lose his nerve.

He knocked on Chris’ door, glad he could remember the number. Chris’ scent was so subtle. 

The door opened. 

“Chris do you want to — Oh, I’m so sorry. Is — is Chris there?”

The small Spanish woman stared up at Yuuri, not understanding but not looking entirely upset that a young man had shown up to her door in only a bathrobe.

Yuuri’s cheeks flushed bright red. “I’m so sorry, have a wonderful day.”

He speed-walked back to his room, narrowly avoiding a fully-clothed JJ. 

“Chris is gone,” Yuuri said as he walked in. 

“What?” 

“Someone else is in his room.” 

“Are you sure it was the right room?” 

“I have a nose,” Yuuri growled. Then, softly: “… why would he leave?”

Victor bit his lip, silent for several moments before he whispered: “I don’t know.”

— 

_Hey, uhm, are you OK?_   
_I went to your room and you weren’t there_   
_A little old lady saw me in my bathrobe instead_

_mustve made her day_

_Chris!!! You’re alright!!!_

_yeah darling_   
_didnt mean to worry you_   
_needed to go home unexpectedly_

_Oh no_   
_Is everything OK?_

_it’ll be ok_

_Will you watch my exhibition?_

_i’ll see if the stream works_

_It’s… well… I heard you had a lot to do with it_

_?_

_Watch it? Please?_

_live if i can_   
_youtube if i can’t_

_Thank you_   
_It means a lot_   
_We really missed you_

_that why you were at my door in a robe_   
_sad i missed it_   
_not even in heat_

_It’s April 10th right?_   
_Victor added it to my tracker so we could be there for you_

_… both of you?_

_Well… I showed up in my bathrobe to see if you wanted to join us this morning…_

_did you spike?_

_No… just… wanted to be with you_

Chris didn’t respond immediately. His dots kept appearing and disappearing. Finally:

_… did victor talk to you at all_   
_after the competition_

_Yeah_   
_He told me he was going to propose_   
_And how you’d helped him_   
_And us_   
_With it all_

_you gonna marry him?_

_I have to get a gold medal first_

_you know he didn’t mean that_   
_he panicked_

_Well everyone heard so_

_when has victor nikiforov cared what people think_   
_actually_   
_don’t answer that_

Yuuri giggled, gazing at his phone. 

“Talking to Chris?” Victor asked. 

Yuuri looked up from the bench: “How’d you know?” He stood, offering his back to Victor, who zipped the undershirt and then held out Yuuri’s jacket.

“The way you smiled,” Victor said.

He fit the silver braids over Yuuri’s buttons, then smoothed the outfit down. Victor was already in his matching purple version. 

_Almost time_ , Yuuri texted. _Please watch me!_


	31. Chris: Stammi Vicino

They were beautiful. 

Chris watched the exhibition from his bed at home, curled up beneath his covers, head sticking out just enough to get fresh air. The rest of him was snuggly blanketed: simple nesting comforts to help him watch… whatever Yuuri wanted him to see. 

He was grateful for it, when the light shifted its hue and Victor Nikiforov, after nearly a year of absence, finally returned to the ice, and the spotlight, where he belonged. 

They were so beautiful together.

The camera followed them over the ice, capturing their faces, their eyes, the way Yuuri’s fingertips caressed Victor’s cheek. There was absolutely no doubt how the two felt about each other, even without the matching rings on their fingers.

Was it wrong, for Chris to long for them so deeply? To imagine himself as the air between them, expanding and compressed in turns as they spun and shadowed each other, crossed one another’s path. How often had he thought of that night - and that morning - where he felt Victor’s heat on his back and Yuuri’s breath on his chest.

He didn’t cry. He’d cried enough over those two. But he _ached_.

Chris watched until the very end, until Yuuri lifted Victor into the air and set him down. Until the two twirled to a stop, forehead to forehead, embraced beneath the cheers of the crowd and the shower of roses and stuffies. 

Chris hugged his own stuffie to his chest, pressing his nose deep into the plush. It had a pouch inside of it for a scent capsule - something an alpha could fill to reassure their omega. In the same way omega scent could calm and sooth an alpha, there was something about an alpha’s pheromones - a familiar alpha, at least - that felt like protection and safety and security in the best way. 

He didn’t feel bad at all that he’d stolen Yuuri’s briefs as a stand in. 

— 

_Chris!_

_morning darling_   
_back in japan?_

_At the airport_   
_Did you watch?_

_you were perfect darling_   
_beautiful_

_Victor’s coming back_   
_We did it_

_nothing like beating victor’s records to get him motivated_   
_you training in japan?_

_I’m heading back for Nationals_   
_Then Victor asked me to move in with him_   
_In St. Petersburg_   
_So he can keep working with Yakov_   
_You’ll visit, won’t you?_   
_We’ll be so close_   
_You could come down for a weekend_   
_Or maybe stay for a bit after Four Continents?_

Chris just watched the messages pop up, shaking his head, imagining Yuuri’s determined, focused enthusiasm. He remembered a few months ago, when Yuuri barely answered any of his texts at all. 

_an omega going to the den of two alphas?_   
_sounds like a cautionary tale_

_An alpha and a half!_

_you’re on the alpha side of your cycle until just before Worlds_   
_Victor shared yours with me, too_

Yuuri sent back several blushing emojis. 

_you and victor are both going to rut within a week of each other_

Yuuri’s dots appeared, paused, disappeared, started again. 

_Will you be there?_

Chris set his phone down, tilting his chin up in thought. Victor and Yuuri, both in the prime of their ruts. That had never happened before. They’d probably wind up with scars if he left them to their own devices. But if Chris was there? God, getting to have both of them? To get wasted by Victor and then follow it up with Yuuri? 

His ass twitched, and he grabbed his phone with one hand while the other snuck between his legs and tickled his — oh, fuck, how had he gotten that wet that quickly? His finger went in _so easily_. 

_tell me what you’d do to me :*_ , he sent. It was a terrible idea. It was a terrible, terrible idea and he knew it from the moment it popped into the chat window. 

But fuck it. He deserved this, didn’t he? After everything? If this was all he could get right now, he was going to milk it for all it was worth. 

Yuuri sent another string of blushing emojis. _You mean like tie?_

Oh Yuuri Katsuki. Delicate omega. Formidable alpha. Sexting virgin.

_you want me there for your rut right_   
_to take your knots_   
_to keep you from killing each other_   
_convince me_   
_seduce me, darling_   
_tell me what I have to lick forward to_   
_look*_   
_but i’ll accept licking too :*_

He imagined Yuuri’s adorable, full-panicked face. Chris pinched the rim of his ass between two fingers, sliding that hold in a semi-circle before he thrust his fingers in again. Every flicker of those dots he pictured tongue-tied Yuuri stuttering over his attempt to be sexy, looking over his shoulder in the airport to see if anyone was watching. It wasn’t _erotic_ , exactly, but it was adorable, and endearing, and Chris brought the smeared juices from his hole up to circle his cock head. 

_I’ll get nesting boards for the bed_

Chris covered his face with his hand. God dammit, Yuuri Katsuki, being so damn _charming_ when all Chris wanted was to get off. 

_And fresh blankets. I’ll make sure Victor doesn’t mark them._

This was going to take some work 

_and what about when i’m in your bed_   
_come on yuuri_   
_where’s that eros_

He flicked to his chat with Victor. They hadn’t spoken or texted since Chris’ confession. It was probably the longest they’d gone in silence in six years. 

Fuck it. 

_you gotta teach your fiance how to sext_

_What!?_

_he’s trying to convince me to be there for your ruts_   
_i told him he had to seduce me_   
_he kicked it off by talking about a nest_

Victor texted a dozen heart-eyed smiles. _ISNT HE SWEET_

_sweet yes but i want to come_

_Do you want me to call you :* :* :*_

_i want him to tell me about his knot_

_Did you like it in you?_

Dammit Victor. Yuuri’s texts finally popped up:

_Well… I can’t control myself very well_   
_I’d probably do what I did last time_   
_Both times_   
_I like to be a gentleman_

It was almost painful. Chris slid his fingers back into his ass, smirking. 

_you mean you like to lick my ass before you fuck me_   
_like the way it tastes?_

There was a flutter of dots, then:

_YOU TOLD VICTOR_

_haha i just said he should help you with your sexting_   
_you know_   
_it could be fun while you’re not in the same place_

_Chris!!!_

_i’m sorry darling_   
_it was really cute_

Yuuri sent more strings of embarrassed faces. 

_I have to turn off my phone now!_   
_Text when I land_

Chris was never going to get off at this rate. He flicked back to his window with Victor and read the texts that had come in. 

_Did you like how gentle he was?_   
_Tonguing your neck while he tied?_   
_Did you like how he cleaned you up after?_   
_It looked like his entire tongue was up your ass_   
_Think he could lick your spot?_

It was a bad idea. It was a terrible idea. His brain told him to stop but his heart and groin had other ideas.

Chris tapped the video icon and set his phone face down. 

“Bonjour, mon cher,” Victor said, his voice a low rumble. 

“Tell me about his tongue,” Chris said, and he closed his eyes, working his fingers deep.


	32. Yuri: Why Am I Here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> happy day US folks :)

Yuri Plisetsky felt like a million bucks. 

He’d gotten gold in his senior debut. 

He’d kept Yuuri Katsuki on the ice.

He’d cycled with an omega for the first time.

Otabek Altin had promised his friendship. He insisted Yuri stay focused on his skating, and their relationship remained at that. For other people it might have stung, but they’d agreed so amicably to it that Yuri didn’t take any issue. 

Victor was back in the St. Petersburg rink, where he belonged, and Yuri got to keep tabs on Yuuri, who was flourishing under Victor’s tutelage and from watching Victor train. Yuuri had easily won Japanese Nationals, and Victor, like an ass, had used the vigor of his comeback to win Russia’s. 

“Finally got your gold medal,” Yuri snickered when Yuuri showed up. “You married yet?”

“Soon,” Victor grinned, biting into Yuuri’s gold.

Disgusting. 

Still. It was good to have Victor back. 

Not that he’d ever tell anyone.

— 

They went to the US for an exhibition, and it felt almost like a Grand Prix reunion. Yuri got the phone call in the middle of making out with Otabek.

“Answer it,” Otabek insisted. 

“But —”

“Answer it.”

Yuri was going to fucking _kill_ Victor.

“WHAT.”

“Yuri!” 

“Ugh, _what_. Why do you _call me_ , it’s like, fuck, 2017.”

“Do you have a tux?”

“Yeah, I packed it next to my skates, what the fuck, why would I have a tux?” 

“OK, just wear something nice and meet us in the lobby in an hour. We need you to sign something. Bring Otabek too if he’s there!”

“I was — we were busy!”

“Yuri. This is _important_.”

And that’s how he wound up being a signatory at their wedding. 

— 

Apparently Chris, Yuuri and Victor had had… slightly too much to drink their first night in LA. Yuuri seemed loathe talking about it in any sort of detail, but Phichit got a few tidbits out of him as they waited in the lobby for Victor to appear. Apparently Chris had brought up the fact that they were in the US and Victor and Yuuri ought to use the opportunity to get married. Victor had - predictably - gotten extraordinarily excited, which made Yuuri extraordinarily excited, and it devolved into Chris getting ordained online so he could marry them.

Yuri hated weddings. Not that he’d been to a lot, but they just sounded so _boring_. Yuri didn’t think being feral would make any difference. He’d just assumed it was all the same, right until Victor showed up in a dazzling white tux and planted a golden-trimmed glass vial of slightly-yellow liquid in his palm. 

“… Victor….” 

“Just hold onto it until the officiant calls for the pherotory.”

“Victor.”

“Chris is the officiant.”

“VICTOR.”

“It should be after the vows.”

“VICTOR IS THIS YOUR PISS.”

Victor gave a wink. “It’s my _pheromones_ , Yuri. That’s why it’s called a _pherotory_.”

Yuri’s nostrils flared and he held the vial by its cork with the very edges of his fingertips, extended as far as possible from his body. 

“Why can’t Phichit hold it?!”

“Phichit is Yuuri’s best man. Chris would be mine, but he’s marrying us. That leaves you.” 

Yuuri’s white tux matched Victor’s, but the collar of Yuuri’s was notched on the back of his neck, exposing his bare skin. Yuri made a face as he realized what was going to happen. 

Disgusting, disgusting, disgusting. Ew ew ew ew ew!

Yakov had no idea. He was wearing his normal coaching attire, arms crossed, looking simultaneously confused and unsurprised. Phichit was wearing a blue-checkered suit with a spray of glitter across his eyes. Otabek had been invited by way of Yuri not wanting to leave him alone, and Otabek happened to have a suit, meaning Yuri in his skinny jeans and black shirt was the odd one out dress-wise.

Chris stood in front of a hastily procured podium in an even more hastily decorated hotel suite. He wore a stole of blue and cream flowers, one in his hair. 

“Do you have any idea what you’re doing?” Yuri hissed. 

“I took an online course,” Chris winked. He cleared his throat. “Alright alright, settle down, mes jolies.” He took a flower from his stole and tucked it behind Yuuri’s ear, making him blush, and then repeated the gesture to Victor.

Phichit was already crying.

Ugh.

“Dearly beloved,” Chris started. “We are gathered here today on this 11th of January in the great city of Los Angeles to celebrate the union of our dearest friends, Katsuki Yuuri and Victor Nikiforov.” 

Phichit clapped his hands together in happiness, and Yuuri giggled with nerves. 

“Thank you, thank you,” Victor beamed, holding out an arm in presentation and giving a little bow. “Really it’s all him.”

Kill. Me. 

He zoned out as Chris talked about — _something_.

“To absolutely no one’s surprise,” Chris smirked, “Victor chose to write his own vows.” 

Victor beamed, pulling out a piece of paper from his tux. 

“In three hours?” Yuuri gaped, but Victor just winked. Yuri stared at the ceiling in dismay until Otabek elbowed him to pay attention.

Victor cleared his throat. 

“Yuuri,” he started. “My sexy pork cutlet bowl. My biggest fan.” Another wink. “My alpha and my omega.”

Yuuri went from pink, to red, to teary-eyed. This was going to be terrible. 

Chris stood with his hands folded in front of him, glasses perched on his nose, watching Victor with a smile of love and bemusement. The three of them should really just make out already but _technically_ it was none of Yuri’s business. Whatever. 

“ _And_ we both like round golden things,” Victor said, and Yuri realized he’d spaced out. It was probably fine. He doubted he’d missed anything important. “You’ll always be at the top of my podium. I love you.” 

“Vicchan,” Yuuri murmured, squeezing Victor’s hands. 

“Yuuri, would you like to do the traditional vo—“ 

“No!” he chirped. “Victor, I love you. I’ve loved you since I was ten and I’ll love you for the rest of my life and no ring and no mark is ever going to change that. But - I’m really happy to be yours. And I’m really happy to start a life with you. And maybe make new lives of our own!” Here he realized what he’d just insinuated and squeaked. “Thank you for inspiring me from the beginning and always!” 

Phichit couldn’t hold back his sniffling sob. Yuuri went red again.

“Yuuri!” Victor gasped in happiness. He leaned in to kiss, only to run right into Chris’ hand. 

“Ah ah,” Chris said. “We aren’t done yet.” He turned back to the assembled group. “In the union of these two, alpha and obe, we celebrate with scenting.” He turned to Yuri and Yuri froze. “Do you have the pherotory?” Yuri blanked. What had he done with it? He patted down his jacket and then finally pulled the vial out, handing it over. 

Chris took the wretched thing and opened the cork. 

“We often mark our partners to illustrate the bond that joins us: a bond of protection, security, and devotion. Yuuri, will you wear Victor’s scent?” 

“I will,” Yuuri beamed. 

“Victor, will you offer your scent to Yuuri?”

“I will.” 

Chris tipped the vial onto a cotton pad. “Yuuri, your gland?” 

Yuuri turned so the back of his neck was towards Victor, and Chris handed the pad off. 

“You may mark your obe,” Chris said, and Victor touched the cloth to Yuuri’s neck, swiping it across the skin. 

Yuri spaced out again staring at the faint gleam on the back of Yuuri’s neck. Apparently true love for ferals meant smearing piss on their skin. Yuri had never marked - he’d never needed to - until he met Otabek. Otabek said he liked the scent of his mate around him, so Yuri had filled exactly one scent holder and put the cotton cylinder into a bear plush for him. 

He just… didn’t get it. 

“-as you both shall live?” 

“I do,” Victor said. 

“And do you, Katsuki Yuuri, take Victor Nikiforov to be your loving husband, to have and to hold, in sickness and in health, for as long as you both shall live?”

“I do,” Yuuri whispered. 

“By the power invested in me by the state of California and the online ordainment I took on a whim, I now pronounce you husbands. I accept tips in the forms of kisses. Also you can both kiss.”

Yuuri and Victor laughed, hugging, and kissed each other before turning and giving Chris matching kisses on either cheek. Chris swung his arms around both of their shoulders, holding them against him, and Yuri really felt like he ought to leave. They kissed again, Yuuri and Victor, and then took deeper turns with Chris. 

“Mazel tov,” Yakov grunted as he walked out.


	33. Victor: Wedding Night

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well! I actually think, believe it or not, we've come to the end of our story. I think this is the final chapter, but we'll get some rutting in the epilogue. 
> 
> (We have to get to the rutting, yeah? We deserve it, all of us)

The night of their wedding they stayed out late drinking and celebrating with their friends. Between Leo and Phichit there was always something to do, always people flocking around, but it was only Chris who came home with them at the end of the night.

“I should leave for your wedding night,” Chris smirked, half-slurred, but Yuuri wouldn’t let go of him, had been clinging to him all night. 

“Noooooo Chrrrrriisssuuuu,” Yuuri whined. “Play with us. Stay with us. We love youuuuuu.” Yuuri struggled to focus for a second: “Like, what about - about your payment for officiating.” Yuuri waggled his brow.

“Payment mm?” Chris slurred right back, lifting Yuuri’s chin with his hand and sliding his tongue into Yuuri’s mouth. Yuuri looked startled for a half second before he wrapped his lips around Chris’ tongue and sucked. Victor had to usher them to the hotel room, leading them down the hall as they bounced off it like pinballs, Chris pinning Yuuri, Yuuri pinning Chris, and Victor spending the entire time figuring out who he should skewer first. 

He figured he should probably start with his husband.

His husband figured he should start with Chris. 

“Are you going to tie with me or just spend all night poking around?” Chris gave a semi-lucid grin over his shoulder, legs spread, ass up towards Yuuri who’d slathered him in saliva before mounting. Yuuri was normally much better at getting his dick into a sopping wet asshole, but Victor didn’t mind stepping in to help. He grabbed Yuuri’s cock, sank his teeth into Yuuri’s neck, and guided the tip into Chris’s winking sex. 

“Uuuuhhnnnph” Yuuri groaned, rattling in his chest as he sank inside.

“Ooh, god, come on, fuck me,” Chris begged, shoving his ass back onto Yuuri’s dick fast enough to swallow it. He rolled his hips like an erotic dancer, humping back onto Yuuri’s cock while Yuuri’s eyes rolled up into his skull. 

That was that, then. Victor stuck a finger into Yuuri’s basically-trickling-he’s-so-wet ass and then followed it promptly with his cock, creating a hunchbacked train of sex. Perhaps it was the intoxication, or Victor’s mark all over the back of Yuuri’s neck, or maybe it was Chris, but there were no growls, no bites. Victor had his omechko underneath him, pumping his cock into Yuuri’s ass, and Yuuri had their omechko on his cock, too. 

Everyone had what they wanted. 

Everyone was moaning loud enough to wake the sun.

“Come on,” Chris cursed. “Fuck, Yuuri, fuck me. Fuck me. Knot me. I can feel it.”

Victor could feel it too, the little jutter in Yuuri’s thrusts when his knot caught on Chris’ asshole. It wouldn’t be able to plow through much longer. A few more thrusts, a few more moments — 

Victor felt it when Yuuri tied, felt the sudden tightness in Yuuri’s ass as he started to come, to gush seed into Chris’ belly. It made it harder for Victor to get _his_ knot inside, but that was part of the pleasure, wasn’t it? Feeling the resistance of your omechko’s ass, feeling it have to stretch and widen until it _finally_ opens up and swallows. 

Victor was so close, _so close_. Then Yuuri’s ass relaxed for a fraction of a second and with an audible slush of juices Victor’s knot popped into Yuuri’s ass and they were tied. 

“Fuck!” Victor cursed. “Oh, fuck, oh —“ It was a chorus of different expletives: English, Russian, Swiss-French and Japanese. Three constantly-coming professional athletes using all their physical prowess to fuck themselves silly. 

Victor bowed over his husband, who was bowed over Chris, who had his eyes closed and was panting in satisfaction. He reached back and pat Yuuri’s thigh in appreciation. 

“Good boy,” Chris said. And then, patting Victor’s thigh. “Good boys. Good boys.”

“I told you,” Yuuri panted, “We’d take care of you.” 

“The best care of you,” Victor groaned. 

He saw Yuuri under him, smelled Yuuri’s alpha pheromones alongside the delicious scent of Yuuri and Chris’ asses. For some reason he had no inclination to bite or growl, and Yuuri wasn’t growling either, was just nuzzling Chris’ neck and gently kneading his teeth against Chris’ shoulder blade, which Chris was moaning about and pressing back into in turns.

“Harder,” Chris demanded, and Yuuri bit harder. 

Victor gave another semi-drunk groan, teething into Yuuri’s neck not because he needed to but because Chris’ sounds were so delicious. 

“Mmm,” Yuuri grunted, “Victor.” 

Victor laughed against Yuuri’s shoulder, a wicked smile curving his lips. 

“Well,” he smirked, “I suppose that’s one way to tie the knot.” 

Yuuri and Chris both grunted in dismay. Yuuri reached back to smack Victor’s ass. “You better be glad we’re tied or I’d be kicking you out right now.”

“Awww, Yuuri,” Victor pouted. 

“Me too,” Chris snorted. 

“Chrisssu!” 

“Don’t you ‘Chrissu’ me,” Chris rumbled. “You should be ashamed.” 

Victor whined, and then suddenly they were all laughing. Yuuri got tired of being in the middle and led the way in their flop, getting them all resting on their sides, spooned together. 

“Have enough air, love?” Victor asked.

“Mmm,” Yuuri approved. He stroked Chris’ side, fingertips glossing over Chris’ skin before threading up into Chris’ hair. Victor hadn’t heard it very often, but he still recognized the sound immediately when Chris started to purr.

“Ahn! Chris!” Yuuri gasped. 

“What?” he twisted in alarm, wondering what was wrong. 

“You purred!” 

Chris actually flushed, pulling a pillow over his face. “Haven’t you ever purred, Yuuri?” 

“Not like _that_ ,” Yuuri said, and he put his hand back in Chris’ hair, pet with those same rhythmic swirls of his fingernails against Chris’s scalp. As if on cue, the purr started up again and Chris tilted his head back, the vibration resonating in his throat as he nuzzled into Yuuri’s touch. 

Victor closed his eyes, laying his ear against Yuuri’s back and listening to his lover’s heartbeat alongside the purr in the air. He couldn’t help his smile, ear to ear. 

“So, Chris,” Victor murmured. “How do you feel about coming down for our ruts now? …Maybe you could even stay in St. Petersburg for awhile.” 

“You _are_ in our wedding bed,” Yuuri grinned into Chris’ hair. “You could be in our regular bed, too.” 

Chris glanced over his shoulder at them, at the alpha and a half that were being so very well behaved under the influence of his presence and scent. 

“That’s moving rather quickly, isn’t it?” Chris said, but he and Victor locked eyes. Victor knew Chris’ secret. 

“I kept my old apartment, before I moved closer to the rink,” Victor said. “You could move in there. Close to us, but your own space still.” 

There was a moment of quiet where Chris searched Victor’s eyes, then Yuuri’s. 

“Move to St. Petersburg,” Chris repeated. 

“We have very good coaches,” Yuuri said. “And they’re… somewhat welcoming to new ones.” 

“You could be there for both our ruts,” Victor said.

“… And you could be there when we’re not in rut, too,” Yuuri added. “Like this.”

Chris shifted on Yuuri’s cock, and his own let out another spurt of cream as Yuuri’s knot rubbed inside him. 

That was how it had all started, wasn’t it? Chris grinding out orgasms on some Japanese skater’s knot. Some Yuuri Katsuki, unknown. 

“It’s going to take some planning,” Chris said. 

“Mmhm,” Yuuri and Victor agreed. 

“It’s not going to be simple or easy.”

Victor and Yuuri shook their heads. Victor found himself biting his lip. 

Hoping. 

“Alright,” Chris said at last, another luxurious purr sneaking past his lips. He twisted to kiss Yuuri, and then Victor struggled awkwardly over his husband to do the same. “Alright.” He locked eyes with Victor again, received a second, softer kiss from him. “You’re both crazy. But alright.”


	34. Epilogue & Acknowledgments

Victor crossed his arms as Chris stripped him down and put the muzzle on him. He held out his hands for the smittens, opening and closing them once he was encased. The plush chair in the corner of the guest room was his cage for the duration of Yuuri’s rut, forbidden from marking, only able to watch and use the sleeve toy Yuuri had set out for him.

“I want to be part of it too,” Victor pouted as he watched Chris and Yuuri bring the water jugs into the room. “I know I never got the dildo in, but maybe —“ 

“No, baby. We said you could watch in your muzzle and smittens,” Chris said. “But you know Yuuri’s scent is going to make you mad.”

“I love Yuuri’s scent,” Victor pouted. 

“But it makes you mad.”

“Only some of the time.”

Even on his rut, Yuuri was still half omega. He added nesting boards to the sides of the bed, then filled the hollow with blankets and soft things. Yuuri rolled around in it, getting his scent on it, and Chris couldn’t help but grin. Yuuri was, without a doubt, the most adorable alpha he’d ever cycled with.

Chris undressed carefully, mindful that Yuuri was pre-rut, was still an alpha and prone to the jealous and possessive streaks other alphas shared. Once they were naked he butt his head against Yuuri’s side, rumbling and nestling. 

“Are you ready, love?” Chris purred.

He showed off his neck and Yuuri dropped kisses on it, preludes to the bites to come. Yuuri had been very gentle last time: no need for a collar or saddle to dampen the pressure. Yuuri wouldn’t draw blood, and he wouldn’t mark Chris spontaneously. 

He was very different from Victor.

Yuuri was already in fever, his skin warm and flush as Chris touched him, nuzzled with him, and kissed him. The farther into rut, the less Yuuri would be able to kiss, so Chris soaked them up until he heard the softest of growls from Yuuri’s throat. Yuuri’s touched Chris’ hip. 

His alpha wanted him to present. 

Chris canted his head, keeping his neck exposed to Yuuri as he twisted around. He dipped his back as he moved to hands and knees, drawing attention to his ass. 

“All yours, darling,” Chris purred over his shoulder. “I’m all yours.” 

Victor whined behind his muzzle. “Chrisssss I want you.”

“Five more days, baby,” Chris reassured. “Then you get Yuuri and I both. Whoever you want as long as your rut. But right now it’s Yuuri’s turn. You know I’ve got to help hi—oooohh.” Chris’ voice cut off as he felt Yuuri’s tongue between his legs. “Ooh, baby…”

“I’ve been getting better at that, too!” Victor huffed from his chair. 

Chris just smiled at Victor before closing his eyes, body naturally pushing back towards Yuuri, filling with blood, growing wet. He shuddered as Yuuri’s tongue followed the juiciness inside, spearing into him. 

“That’s perfect,” Chris moaned. “Come on over me, darling.”

He lowered his hips, pulling free from Yuuri’s tongue. His ass clenched, winking in invitation, and the trick worked. Chris felt a brush of air as Yuuri rose up onto his knees and covered him. Yuuri was shorter, and Chris had to widen his legs to line his ass up with Yuuri’s cock. Yuuri’s growl rumbled near his ear; Yuuri’s teeth nipped tenderly across Chris’s shoulder. He felt Yuuri’s cock poking up towards his asshole before finally sinking inside. 

Victor whimpered again: “I need —”

“You can touch yourself, baby,” Chris said. “You’ve got your toy, too. Just put your cock in it, okay, and pretend it’s Yuuri or me.” 

“But Chris —”

“Baby, Yuuri’s busy,” Chris said, because Yuuri was going long and deep and Chris would kill Victor if that changed. “Stick your cock in it. Go on.” 

Victor groaned but picked up the Chris-lubed sleeve and put it on his dick.

“Chris, why can’t I fuck Yu—”

“Victor. Baby. I love you, but I will run you out of this room when Yuuri’s done if you don’t behave,” Chris warned. It didn’t really shut Victor up, not for long, but he obediently fucked the sleeve as he watched the two of them. 

Chris took Yuuri’s knot easily, gave Yuuri full access to his neck for bites and licks as they tied. His chewed on Yuuri’s knot with his ass, hips rotating in their sockets to rub that sweet knob of flesh inside of him. He lost track of his orgasms by the third time they tied. God, he felt incredible.

“Mmmm. Chris…” Yuuri cooed during his lucidity, lapping delicately at Chris’ neck. 

“Hey, love,” Chris said over his shoulder. He twisted around, rotating on Yuuri’s cock until he was on his back. Yuuri settled on top of Chris, snuggling amongst the blankets. Their combined scent was sinking into the fabric, sweat catching on the material and surrounding them in safety. Chris stole several kisses from Yuuri while he could, pumped seed on his belly, and drifted on the high.

Victor must have gone back to his own room to sleep, because Chris woke up sometime in the early morning to the creak of the door and Victor coming inside. Yuuri gave a low, warning growl. 

In addition to making sure Chris and Yuuri ate and drank, Victor started circling the nest while Yuuri and Chris were mid-fuck and distracted. Chris had just enough time to curse at him before Victor leapt into the nest, trying to mount Yuuri. 

Chris held his breath for a vicious attack, for Yuuri to recoil and launch at Victor, but instead Yuuri just gave off another low growl, arms tightening around Chris in defense. 

Yuuri was soaked through, apparently. Victor slid inside him without resistance. 

Chris kept waiting for it to set Yuuri off, but it never happened. Yuuri held still as Victor mated him, perhaps already satisfied by having his knot embedded in Chris. As long as Victor wasn’t trying to steal Chris away, Yuuri seemed content to let Victor have his ass. Given Victor’s muzzle, he couldn’t bite anyway, and he couldn’t scratch with his smittens on. 

To Chris’ amazement, they were actually okay.

“I can’t believe you did that, Victor,” Chris snorted as Victor pumped his hips. He looked back over his shoulder, but Victor’s eyes were rolled up in his skull, his mouth open, as if he hadn’t heard Chris at all. 

“Victor,” Chris pressed. 

Nothing. 

Chris reached a hand back, scrubbing first Yuuri’s side, then Victor’s. 

They were both hot with fever. Yuuri’s rut must have set off Victor’s early. 

…They probably shouldn’t have let him stay in the room. 

That meant Chris had two mid-rut alphas in his nest with him, two pulsing cocks, two thick knots. It was as arousing as it was dangerous, and Chris ass gave several sympathetic squeezes around Yuuri’s knot. He stayed otherwise still beneath Yuuri, who was just resting over him, supporting Victor’s weight as he tied.

“Chris - mm —” Victor mumbled when he was aware again. “I’m sorry.” 

“It’s okay, baby,” Chris soothed. “It’s okay. You’re not gonna hurt anyone. Just be careful if Yuuri turns on you, okay? Be good to him.” 

“Mmm,” Victor hazily agreed.

“And don’t mate with me, or Yuuri won’t have anyone to help him,” Chris said. “You just focus on Yuuri.”

“I love Yuuri,” Victor mumbled, rapidly drifting off into his haze again. “I love you.”

“I love you too, baby,” Chris murmured. “I love you both.” Even despite the danger, he found his lips curling up in content. “Be good now. We’ll get through this together.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

The End

**Acknowledgments**

Wow! What a November, huh? I sort of started this on a whim thinking it would be a fun and less stressful alternative to a serious NaNoWriMo novel, but I got way more into it than I anticipated, in part because of how into it all y’all got.

There were SO MANY of you every-chapter commenter folks! You know you made my day, right???? Every day, basically, too! 

RIGHTEOUS ANGER CREW: 

**Tiptoes162** \- Almost everyone agreed that Chris got shafted (only sometimes in the good way), but your level of "omfg fuck viktor and yuuri" was incredible XD! I loved hearing how invested you were! 

**Dazednlost** \- You were also on team PROTEC CHRIS  <3 Totally appreciated your Chris concern (and subsequent disgruntledness at his treatment). Clearly I adore him too. KEEP SAFE. 

**Vritra** and **EarthSorceress** \- You were less anger-based and more beat-head-against-wall XD -- I think we could all relate! Though I did love your one comment, ES, that was just "Fucking hell."

**possibleplatypus** \- You wound up exasperated at the end I think XD XD I felt bad putting Chris through the communication hell of these two - but he loves them so much!

WORLD-BUILDING CREW: 

**DiamondWinters** \- There are few things I love more than discussing weird world-building tidbits, and it was so fun to see you binge through most of the story and then get into the details. 

**XMadamRoseX** \- Clearly I could talk about the world forever. Thank you for indulging me.

**Phoenix Song** \- Thank you for calling me on some of my gloss-over, hand-wavy world-building aspects. I'm fleshing more stuff out because of you!

REVIEW CREW: 

**PickleWeasel** \- It was so much fun hearing your analysis and breakdown of the different chapters: how you felt, what you projected on the characters. What you were hoping for. It was phenomenal! Can't tell you how big I grin when I get comments from you in my inbox! 

**synteis** \- I'm pretty sure you commented on every single chapter, sometimes multiple times, and they were all these wonderful perspectives on what had happened and super heart-warming compliments/reviews on different elements. Your insight into Chris was pretty much spot on the whole time. 

**Allykat23** \- I loved your concern for Yuri. I hope that your re-read of the future stories were reassuring and soothing~ The babies will be OK!!!

**Merlioske** \- Your enthusiasm is my fuel! I feel like if I had a penny for every exclamation point in your comments I would be rich forever.  <3

OLD SCHOOL CREW: Y’all have just followed me from story to story and like A) Y'all crazy and B) I LOVE Y'ALL SO MUCH. 

**KiranPhantomGryphon** \- technically you were also team Protect Chris  <3  
 **VaughnRocks** \- omg your comedic commentary XD  
 **sparklespiff** \- that hamburger!  
 **tuples** \- it means so much that you took time to read/comment even when you've got so much going on! Thank you!  
 **Francowitch** \-  <3 <3 <3  
 **SweetLil_Angel** \- Ahhhhh you you you you! You are so sweet and so kind and so wonderful  <3 Thank you for such lovely notes.  
 **JaneNyx** \-  <3 Always a pleasure to see your name in my inbox  
 **Fantazyfinder4vr** \- You just keep reading my stuff! It's amazing! XD

And more folks who popped in here and there but still made my day. Gaaaah - **JenRose** , **Bear_Squared51** , **A Pretty Sonnet** , **Ammonium** , **Lissaiah** , **Kanekididnotdeserve** , **Arfang_Red** , **ahhelga** , **Merlenyn** , **carrielyn** , **marshmallowdramatic**

I KNOW THERE'S MORE I'M FORGETTING AND I'M SORRY. Basically, thank you so much to everyone for being there this whole time. I'm touched and amazed. 

And of course, biggest thanks to my two dears who kept me sane on the journey, **Sintina** and **verity**.


End file.
